Eine Kleine Liebe
by Preussen
Summary: A Little Love - Gilbert wakes up to find Matthew turned into a child. The simple reason for why such a thing happened is completely unbeknownst to him and Matthew, but it definitely causes a lot of problems. Child!Mattie -minuscule amounts of shota-
1. Awakening

01

- AWAKENING -

The room was filled with light sifting in through the blinds, obscuring the sleeping forms on the bed with stripes of shadow and sunshine. There was a quiet peacefulness about the room as the two occupants slept on, unawares of the birds singing outside or the leaves floating to the ground from the maple tree in the front yard. The only thing either of them noticed or cared about at that moment was the warmth from the opposite body and the silent wishing that they could both just lay in bed for another five minutes before they had to get up and start with the days stressful events.

Mondays had to be the worst however because it was on those particular days that Gilbert's work days started.

Yes.

Work.

As if on cue, the alarm on Gilbert's side of the bed went off; a loud squealing noise that hurt his ears and quickly extracted a rather loud and strangled growl from the albino. He grudgingly rolled over onto his back, flinging an arm out to slam into the alarm, effectively stopping the loud ringing still echoing between his ears. He laid there for what seemed like eons, blearily staring up at the ceiling as he willed his body to move.

_Maybe I can call in sick…_ He thought. _Fake a broken shin or something…say I was playing hockey…_ He sighed heavily, lifting a calloused and pale hand to rub at his face. _Fuck it…I gotta get up…_

Two minutes passed.

Three minutes.

Seven…

There was a soft shuffling from Gilbert's right side, but he didn't bother moving to acknowledge it. Frankly, he was too groggy and his whole body felt heavy at the thought of getting up and getting dressed and actually going to do something that required MANUAL LABOUR.

It just wasn't that appealing to him. He was too awesome for shit like that.

Really.

"Gilbert."

Damn.

He hummed in response, although it sounded much more like a hoarse crackle. The shuffling resumed and he heard a stifled yawn.

"Gilbert, c'mon…You gotta get up."

"Mmm."

Silence and then an irritated huff. "Gil…!" There was a light prodding on the side of his face and Gilbert finally caved in. With a loud groan he finally propped himself on his elbows, staring at the covers that were currently keeping his legs nice and toasty.

"G'mon, You gotta get ready."

Gilbert merely sighed as he ran a hand through his short, silver locks before he turned his head. Anything he would've thought about saying promptly died on his lips however when he stared at the form next to him.

Died and shriveled up and then burst into flame and then the ashes had been tossed into the ocean to never ever be seen again.

Ever.

Matthew sat before him, his half-lidded blue-violet eyes staring up at him. He rubbed wearily at his face with the sleeve of his suddenly very, _very_ oversized pyjama shirt.

Come to think of it, that exact same shirt was revealing a rather large amount of skin as it was currently sliding off of one of his shoulders.

Gilbert could only stare. Gawk was probably a more appropriate term though. "M-mattie…?"

Surely this could not be happening.

"What?" Matthew let his hand drop down to the mattress as he frowned. "And what's with the look?"

Gilbert tried to force something else out of those lips of his but his whole body seemed to have seized up and what was with his brain? He couldn't think straight anymore.

This was not happening.

No.

He was still dreaming.

That had to be it.

There was no way that…

That this…

That _he_…

"Kid." It was a light croak and hardly even considered a word when it reached his ears, just mangled noise that had been garbled and crunched and shoved in a blender.

"What…?" Matthew continued frowning, although with his now…chubby cheeks…it looked more like a pout.

A real fuckin' adorable pout.

"You're a…kid…" Ruby eyes widened and suddenly, what little colour he still had in the pigment of his skin quickly faded away and left him a stark white.

Matthew cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing together in utter confusion. "Gilbert I don't-"

"Holy- Oh my GOD. This is…I mean you…"

"G-gil, what-!?"

"You gotta be…kyaaagh!" Gilbert doubled over in his place on the bed, pulling at his hair and rubbing his eyes. He took a double take at the small figure sitting next to him in bed. That double turned into a triple take. Than a quadruple.

It was when Matthew reached out to tug at a lock of white hair that Gilbert calmed down.

Only slightly however.

"Gilbert, stop acting like an idiot!" Matthew tugged rather harshly at the strands in his hand, causing the Prussian to yelp rather loudly. He yanked his head away, effectively throwing himself off of the bed and pulling the covers with him. "Gil!"

"WHAT THE HELL MATTIE!?" Gilbert jumped to his feet in a split second and pointed a rather accusatory finger at Matthew- no, no the _child_ in his bed.

"Same goes to you, Gil! What the hell is up with you this morning!?" Matthew crawled over to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over. It was at that moment that everything seemed to click for the small Canadian.

Matthew sat there for a few moments, looking highly confused before he finally looked down to assess that, yes, indeed, his feet were _not_ touching the ground and no, no he did _not_ have any pants on.

He looked back up at Gilbert with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open and his tiny little hands clinging to the sheets like they were his life line.

"What…What happened to me!?" His voice was rather shrill and high-pitched from panic. Tears were already budding at the corners of his eyes as he slowly shook his head from side to side.

This wasn't happening.

It couldn't be.

Yes, Gilbert decided. Monday's definitely _were_ the worst.

Simply for the fact that everything seemed to happen on those days.

* * *

A/N: This my dear friends is a story for the V-Day exchange over on the PrussiaxCanada group on LJ. c: I am having SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL!!! But my goodness is this turning out great. I'm putting the "Red Ball" story on hold until I finish this seeing as this is a priority one. ;)

I don't know if they have an account on here, but the story is for Bakacomputer~

I hope you all enjoyed it~ The next chapter will be out tomorrow. c:


	2. New Routine

02

- NEW ROUTINE -

When Tuesday came, Matthew found himself seated at the dining table, tiny legs dangling a good three or four inches off the ground as he watched Gilbert cook.

It wasn't as if he had much say in the matter. If Matthew were capable, he would force Gilbert to sit down instead, but due to certain…_circumstances_…Matthew was currently unable to do so. It didn't exactly help that Gilbert had suddenly gone into a very over-protective mode.

Prime example of such: Just minutes before, Matthew had been standing on a stepping stool cooking breakfast. Even with the added leverage, he was still a little short and had to work extra hard to keep the pan from slipping through his fingers and onto the ground. Gilbert had walked in, took one look at the boy, and then burst out into a barrage of frantic yells and flailing, and ordering Matthew to, "Get off that fucking chair or you'll end up BURNING YOUR FACE OFF!"

And so Matthew was whisked away by a pair of large pale hands that had slipped beneath his arms and deposited into a chair at the dining table. No questions asked other than the startled, "Wha!?" That managed to slip through the young Canadian's lips. Gilbert gave him a cold stare, turned around, and then quickly picked up cooking from where Matthew had left off.

Matthew more or less felt very annoyed however. Annoyed, angry, and a little hurt.

"Gil, I can cook fine you know…" He mumbled as he laid his head down on the table. Absently, he began swinging his feet back and forth. The frying pan sizzled as Gilbert poked at the sausage and eggs.

"Regardless of if you can cook or not, you could have fallen or something."

"I could've gotten back u-"

"Fallen and taken the frying pan with you." Gilbert looked over his shoulder and leveled a steely glare at the small child sitting at the table. "Not the best way to start off a day, even if you'd heal rather quickly…" He huffed, his shoulders falling lax and shifting his weight to his left foot before turning back to the food. Matthew said nothing, opting to fall silent as well and trace patters onto the table with his little fingers.

"I was doing fine…" He grumbled, but Gilbert didn't hear him as he cracked another egg over the frying pan and the sound of sizzling filled the room.

The breakfast was eaten in a sort of awkward silence. Matthew was fumbling with his fork, not used to the utensil being so big in his hands. Gilbert was constantly getting distracted by the way Matthew's cheeks would puff out or how his eyebrows would furrow together when the fork slipped in his fingers just as he was about to take a bite.

He just wasn't used to Matthew being so small.

That was it…

…Really…

Matthew broke Gilbert from his trance when he set his fork down rather loudly. He bit his lip and looked up at the Albino with wide blue-violet eyes. "Uhm…Gil, I'm gonna need new clothes…"

Gilbert took a moment to respond, furrowing his eyebrows and sitting up a little straighter. "Wah?" He hadn't even swallowed yet…

"I need new clothes." Matthew repeated as he fiddled with the over sized shirt draped over his shoulders. "All of my clothes are too big now and all I can fit into are the shirts." He paused briefly to pull the sleeve up on one side as it was slowly starting to slip off of his shoulder –Gilbert didn't miss that small action at all— and then continued. "And I don't think I have any of my old clothes either…" He glanced up from his plate to look up at Gilbert.

The albino seemed to be in his own world of some sort, eyes somewhat distant and absently chewing on his food. "So…You want to go…shopping…?" He asked slowly.

Matthew nodded stiffly.

"I…uh…" Gilbert set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. Sighing heavily, he scratched the back of his head and stared hard at the table. "What exactly do you need?"

"A shirt and some pants…Maybe shoes as well…" A brief pause before he added in, "And a jacket since it's cold outside."

"Anything else…?"

"Erm…U-underwear…" Matthew looked down at the table sheepishly. It was a miracle he didn't have to go running about the house in his "birthday suit". Silently, he thanked whatever god there was out there that it hadn't been Gilbert who was a turned into a child. There would have been many chasings of a naked albino boy through the house if it had been said man.

Gilbert pressed his lips into a thin line. "And how do you expect to go outside in _that_?" He waved a flippant hand towards Matthew's current attire.

The whole outfit Matthew was wearing consisted of an over sized hockey jersey and absolutely nothing else…

Matthew blushed deeply and brought a hand up to his face, covering his mouth slightly. "U-uhm…I'm sure…we can find something…"

Gilbert sighed deeply and slumped in his chair. "I suppose…" He grumbled. "But you owe me kid…" Matthew smiled timidly. "But we'll have to go tomorrow…" He added in. "We've gotta find _something_ for you to wear out there…"

"O-oh…I suppose I can wait…" Matthew mumbled. He pulled at the jersey slightly and frowned.

"Yeah. Francis gave me a few days off because he thinks you're sick, so we've got a lot of free time. We should be able to find something for you to wear." Gilbert paused to take a bite of his sausage. "Also, I called up eyebrows earlier. He's gonna come over for a lil' chat around six o'clock."

Matthew's head snapped up, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. "Wha-WHAT!?"

Gilbert merely grinned, standing up and scooping up their plates before walking off.

Matthew was left at the dinner table utterly alone and suddenly dreading the day ahead of him.

There was no way he could see Arthur like this.

It just wasn't possible…

-----

Gilbert and Matthew suddenly found themselves falling into a rather crude version of their usual daily routine. When the German wasn't working, he would stay at home and relax with Matthew, occasionally doing chores or going out for a walk if the boredom ate at his conscience too much.

So far, Matthew had been proven incapable of successfully doing the laundry, as he could hardly get the clothes _in the washer_ now. It didn't help that he had to drag the laundry basket instead of carry it. When Matthew had attempted to drag the laundry basket downstairs, Gilbert had intervened and lifted it up underneath one arm.

Matthew had pouted, but followed Gilbert downstairs only to be told that Gilbert would "take care of it."

Matthew was most definitely not amused.

So Gilbert ended up doing the laundry, and Matthew was forced to sit on the couch watching a movie that he didn't quite understand as he wasn't paying much attention to it.

Matthew continued sitting on the couch for a majority of the day as Gilbert did the things he deemed the little boy too small to do. This included dishes, wiping off the dinner table after they had eaten lunch, making the bed, and other such chores that normally the Prussian wouldn't even think of doing if it weren't for the fact that he was so stressed.

So he took out said stress on doing menial tasks about the house. If he had the option, he would have gladly sat down in his chair and chugged beer for the rest of the day, but the fridge was a little short on booze…

So he cleaned.

All. Day. Long.

It was about four o'clock when Gilbert finally collapsed on the couch next to Matthew. The little Canadian said nothing, merely pulling his tiny legs close to his chest and leveling a rather ferocious glare at the albino as he draped an arm over his face.

"I really need a beer." Gilbert grumbled.

Matthew narrowed his eyes until they were nearly slits. "You think I don't? I wouldn't mind a few shots of Vodka myself but—_oh wait!_ I'm too small now, aren't I?"

The sarcasm dripping off of every word actually sent shivers down Gilbert's spine and suddenly he was reminded of another northern country; One that was rather tall and intimidating and had a freakish smile that never reached his cold, violet eyes. He lifted his arm slightly, cracking an eye open to look at Matthew before he finally assessed that, yes, Matthew was indeed very pissed.

Matthew almost never got angry unless Gilbert was doing something stupid. ( Admittedly, Gilbert _did _do a lot of stupid things…but… )

"Stop treating me like a kid." Matthew grumbled, turning his focus back to the television.

Gilbert sat up, crossing his legs and propping his head up with his hand. "Do you really think you can reach the sink with those little legs?" Gilbert asked. Matthew didn't respond so he continued. "And you can't quite reach the whole table either."

"Your point…?" Matthew mumbled, his chin was planted in the nook between his knees.

"I'm saying you can't do those things now because you're not tall enough."

"But you don't have to treat me like a _kid _Gilbert! Christ, I can still do _something _around here!" Matthew suddenly lifted his head and glared at Gilbert.

The Prussian frowned slightly. "Like what…?"

Matthew opened his mouth to respond but just as quickly as it had opened, shut it. He bit his lip, anger suddenly deteriorating as he sank into the cushions of the couch. "I…" He tried, but his brain failed to provide a reasonable response to Gilbert's question.

Gilbert seemed as if he had been expecting such and smiled pleasantly, looking completely and utterly full of himself.

Matthew only wished he could slap that expression off the albino's face. Wished, and wished _hard_.

"You'll have to get used to it for now, Vögelchen." Gilbert reached out with a pale hand to muss up the little Canadian's hair. Matthew flushed at the contact, and sank lower in his seat.

"Just…don't get used to it…" Matthew mumbled. "I don't like being treated like a kid…"

Gilbert laughed and wrapped his arms around the tiny waist, pulling Matthew into his lap. "No such luck, kid. You're too cute."

Matthew protested loudly, kicking his legs and balling his tiny hands into fists and Gilbert erupted into raucous laughter. Matthew's too large shirt suddenly found itself riding up until it exposed a rather…_vital_ part.

Matthew let out a horrified yell and hastily yanked the shirt back down. "DAMN IT GILBERT!" He hollered, but the Prussian continued laughing, lanky arms holding the small Canadian close to him.

-----

Arthur, being the very proper gentlemen that he was, arrived promptly at six o'clock that evening. He pushed the doorbell once, and then waited patiently with his hands folded neatly at the small of his back. Gilbert opened the door, frowning slightly when he was met face to face with two large bushy caterpillars.

He adjusted his gaze, tilting his head down a good forty-five degrees to look Arthur eye to eye.

"Either you let me in and explain, or I'll just turn around and leave and send you a bill for the gas money I just waisted." Arthur grumbled.

Gilbert's lips twitched in the beginnings of a smirk as he opened the door wider and stepped aside to allow the Brit inside. "Keep your head on, brows, it was worth the drive. Trust me."

Arthur scoffed, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at the Albino. "I highly doubt that, Kraut."

"Whatever, Bushes. Take a seat in the living room." Gilbert waved his hand lazily as he meandered into the Kitchen. Arthur gave the man an apprehensive look before he did as instructed.

"Bloody idiot, calling me out here on such short notice." Arthur murmured as he slipped his jacket off and hung it on the coat rack. He slowly made his way into the living room, glancing about the old house and taking in the many pictures hanging on the walls. There was one particular one, sitting on a table behind the couch that caught his eye, one of Matthew and Gilbert smiling brightly at the Camera. It was takin' at a beach of some sort, Gilbert in nothing but his black and white swim trunks, and Matthew in his red ones with a white shirt covering his torso.

He didn't know what was so strange about the picture to make him stare at it for so long, but perhaps it was because the smile on Matthew's face wasn't one he had seen often.

He had only seen it when the Canadian was with Gilbert…

Sighing heavily, Arthur stepped around the couch to take a seat.

He froze, however, when he saw a small child staring up at him. The blue-violet eyes were wide with horror and his little mouth hung open, cheeks ablaze and tiny hands clinging to the over sized hockey jersey draped over his thin shoulders. Arthur stood there for several moments, staring back at the child with wide, forest green eyes before he let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat.

"Wh-WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU DO!?!?"

In a split second, Arthur had gone from the living room to the Kitchen, gripping the wooden doorway like it was his life line. His face was already turning red as he glared at the Prussian who promptly shrugged in response and handed him a glass of tea.

"I was hoping _you'd_ be able to answer that question for me, caterpillars."

"M-_ME!?_ ARE YOU BLOODY _KIDDING ME_!?!? AND STOP CALLING ME THOSE BLASTED NAMES!" Arthur curled his hands into his hair, hunching over. "Bugger, Gilbert! You better give me an answer! WHY IS THERE A CHILD IN YOUR LIVING ROOM!"

Gilbert sniffed indignantly, taking a large drink of his own beverage ( black coffee for lack of a better substitute for the missing booze ) "I knocked Mattie up a while ago. Forgot to tell you we had a kid. Ha ha. My bad." He deadpanned.

"G-GILBERT!" This shriek was not from Arthur, however the young boy who had suddenly appeared behind said Brit. The boy squeezed past and slammed a small fist irately against the Albino's stomach. "D-DON'T SAY THAT!" The barrage that followed only managed to elicit a laugh from the Prussian.

Arthur watched, horrified as Gilbert scruffed the young boys head and then turned him around to face the guest. "This," Gilbert said simply. "Is Matthew."

The glass that had been shoved into Arthur's hands just moments before, slipped and landed on the floor, shattering into oblivion and sending tea splattering everywhere. Matthew jumped, clinging to Gilbert's leg and looking down at the ground. He refused to look up to see the Brit's expression.

Gilbert however smiled when he saw Arthur's look of pure horror.

Arthur opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again and attempted to force _something_ out…but it was all jumbled and ended up being nothing more than unintelligible spluttering. The Englishmen whirled around, storming off into the living and began a furious pattern of pacing back and forth.

Gilbert picked up Matthew and stepped over the mess. The little Canadian yelped at first, but he was quickly set down on the ground as soon as his bare feet were no long hovering over broken shards of porcelain.

"Brows, you have some explaining to do." Gilbert said as he stepped into the living room and sat down in his chair. Arthur gave him a very stern look, and then followed suit, settling into the couch cushions.

The Brit let out a harsh sigh and began massaging his temples. "Just don't…" He murmured. "Don't tell _him_."

And with that, Arthur launched into his explanation.

-----

Magic was a tricky thinkg. A very tricky thing indeed. It took much concentration, a skilled hand, eye, ear. Perception unlike that of any other. An inherent ability to even do magic in the first place was also very crucial.

Arthur may have had all of those, but after almost fifty years of not ever touching a spell book, he was a little rusty.

To perform a spell, or a curse as Arthur had been attempting just days before, one must picture the victim clearly in their mind. To have a picture helped, it was even preferred as the mind could sometimes slip up and forget a very crucial detail.

However, even with a picture, the mind could still slip up and forget a very…very crucial detail indeed.

Like the fact that Alfred did _not_ have one single curly hair. Or that his eyes had no traces of violet in them whatsoever. Nor was his hair wavy in any way, or parted down the middle.

Simple things that the mind just seemed to slip up on…

Or just downright stupidity as Gilbert had stated bluntly.

Arthur cradled his head in his hands, wishing to god that he would be smited right then and there. He didn't very much care if it left a nasty stain on the Canadian's couch, so long as he was far, far away from the two men ( or rather…man and _child_ ) who were staring both intently, and warily at. Matthew was wringing his hands in his lap, biting his lip and looking to be on the verge of tears.

Gilbert did not look the least bit please after hearing Arthur's explanation.

"So…You originally tried to cast a spell on Alfred…" He mumbled into the palm of his hand. Arthur didn't look up, but he nodded stiffly. "…And you used a picture of Matthew by accident…?" Another stiff nod from the Brit. Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you some kind of _idiot_!?"

Arthur's head snapped up so fast his whole world started spinning, but he quickly forced his dizzy eyes to focus and glare at the Albino. "It's not my bloody fault they look similar!" He snapped.

"They don't look anything alike, England!" Gilbert snapped back. Arthur flinched slightly at the suddenly formal name and sank back into his seat.

"B-but wh-why?" Matthew piped up, swiftly breaking the awkward silence quickly advancing on the trio. The young boy had tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and he hastily wiped them away before they slipped free.

Arthur chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked down at the carpet. "He was being a bloody git, that's why. Thought I'd finally teach 'im a lesson…"

"B-but what on earth were you doing using _magic!?_"

Arthur cringed slightly. "I'd rather not talk about it, Matthew." He said quietly.

Gilbert stood up abruptly. "Don't want to talk about it, hm?" He sighed heavily, lips tugging down into a frown that was extremely uncharacteristic of the Prussian. He stepped forward, reaching out and grabbing the collar of Arthur's shirt. He yanked the short man out of his seat and leveled a rather nasty glare at him.

"What the bloody-"

"You better fucking _fix this,_ Arthur." Gilbert growled.

Arthur paled drastically, and nodded weakly. Those red eyes weren't just _fabled_ to strike fear into the hearts of many. Even if it had been a good century or so since the Prussian had been in a real battle, he was still very intimidating when need be. The grip on his collar went lax and Arthur hastily regained his composure.

"I-I can't guarantee you anything." He said, straightening his tie and giving Matthew and ( especially ) Gilbert a wary look. "B-but I can try and find a reversal spell…It doesn't always work…so…" He flinched whenever he saw Gilbert's expression darken.

He silently wondered how Matthew could stand living with such a bipolar man, but kept his mouth shut and hastily added instead, "I'll do my best though, and keep you updated just…don't…" He paused again. "Just don't do anything stupid, understand?"

Gilbert arched his eyebrows. "…stupid…?" He repeated

Arthur gave a stiff nod. "Yes. Meaning don't bloody do anything to _hurt_ him." His voice was suddenly stern and he gave Gilbert a very hard stare. "No funny business. He's a kid now a—"

"A-arthur! Just because I—" Matthew squeaked.

"And that _means_," Arthur ground out over Matthew's attempted protest. "That he's much more likely to get hurt if you're not careful." Arthur watched as Gilbert's face shifted into an expression of pure bafflement.

"Wha—"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Gilbert." Arthur said matter-of-factly as he turned around on his heel. "if you'll excuse me, I need to get home…" The Brit then exited the living room, grabbed his jacket, and left the house without another word.

Matthew and Gilbert watched the short man leave, Matthew looking highly confused and Gilbert looking just a bit bothered.

-----

Matthew was currently taking a bath, leaving Gilbert alone and bored out of his mind.

The Albino found himself lying face down on the couch, his head tilted to the side as he flipped through channels on the television. Kumajirou was resting on the arm of the couch by Gilbert's feet, Gilbird burrowed into the fur atop his head snoozing as well.

The house was quiet, and Gilbert didn't like that.

Mostly because it gave him time to _think_ and that just wasn't something he _needed_ to do.

But as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed, letting the household know that it was now twelve o'clock, and the television spewed news about current world affairs, Gilbert found his thoughts caught up in a rather chaotic mix of things.

All of which were focused on Matthew.

One of the few things that was floating about in Gilbert's head was the fact that Matthew as a kid was abso-fucking-lutely adorable. No question asked. Gilbert had always been a sucker for cute things, and Matthew was no exception. He constantly felt the urge to pinch Matthew's cheeks or cuddle him close to his chest, but for the sake of his dignity ( and awesomeness ) he refrained from such actions and settled upon a mere poke to the side or kiss on the cheek instead.

Matthew as a child was starting to make it a whole lot harder to resist those urges however.

The second thing floating through the deep dark abyss called Gilbert's mind, was the fact that his sex life was now completely. And utterly. Ruined.

Gilbert was not amused in the least about this fact.

There was something in the back of said deep dark abyss that said nothing much had changed, just that Matthew was a tad bit more _tinier_ than usual. There was no reason why they had to stop being all romantic-like and whatnot, right?

But then again…small things tended to break more easily…

There was a rough, exasperated groan from the man lying on the couch and Kumajirou opened a beady black eye to examine the man. After assessing that it was just that weird guy with the red eyes, the bear closed his eye and dozed off again.

Gilbert buried his face into the couch pillow, lifting a hand to clamp down on his hair and tug irately.

_This can't be happening!_ He thought bitterly, lifting his face enough to peer over the arm of the couch and stare out the living room window.

He couldn't _do anything_ with Matthew anymore, could he? He was too little! Too fragile!

Another groan and Gilbert buried his face into the pillow again, taking deep breaths as he attempted to steady his fried nerves.

On the arm of the couch, Kumajirou cracked his eyes open again to stare at the white head on the opposite side of the sofa. The man had fallen silent and lay unmoving. Turning his head, Kumajirou moved his focus to the television and the commercial currently playing.

The "Meow Mix" melody began playing and Kumajirou suddenly forgot about the distressed man as images of fish and other such products appeared on the screen.

* * *

A/N: Uwaah~ I don't really have much to say about this chapter except my Arthur is such a fail. XD Not only because he just does, but because I'm not that good at writing him. xAx I have no idea how British slang works so I tend to over use the words "Bloody" and "Bugger" and so on. Ah~

And sorry for confusing some of you~ Hopefully this chapter clears up a few things. ;)

Also...My tummy is yelling at me. xAx I'm thinking eating that cake batter was a bad idea...Urrrrgh~

Thank you so much for the reviews guys~ Much love to you all!

By the way, in case you guys were wondering, this is the story I was talking about in "Game Time". The one where my head's been crankin' the gears and steamin' away?  
Oh yeah. |D There's pictures and everything, but if you want to see those, check out my LJ, there's a link on my profile. c:


	3. Café

03

- CAFÉ -

Gilbert awoke on Wednesday morning to the sound of thunder, and a squeak. Frowning slightly, and feeling very sore because he had fallen asleep on the couch the night before, Gilbert opened one lazy eye after the other.

The room was dark, lit up with a light gray colour streaming in from the windows. Rain spattered down on the window panes and thunder rolled above the house slowly, shaking the building ever so slightly. Gilbert sighed heavily, and shut his eyes.

When a loud clap of thunder echoed through and he heard another whimper, his eyes snapped open and he looked down.

Nestled into the crook of his neck, tiny hands clinging onto his shirt, Matthew lay. The child was curled up against Gilbert, eyes shut tight and shaking. Gilbert's confusion only increased however.

Another roll of thunder and the small Canadian buried his face deeper into his Prussian Pillow.

Oh.

_Oh!_

Realization hit him in a flash and suddenly Gilbert found himself dazed. Matthew…was afraid of thunderstorms. Not terrified, per say, but the thunder and loud noises frightened him just enough to make him shake. Gilbert sighed lifted a hand to run through Matthew's hair.

"How long has it been raining…?" He asked groggily.

Matthew jerked back, blue-violet eyes wide. When he realized the deep voice was only Gilbert talking, he relaxed slightly. "About an hour o-or so…" He mumbled, laying his head back down against Gilbert's shoulder.

Gilbert hummed in response and wrapped his arms around the small boy, hugging him close. "Sorry 'bout that…" Was his lazy attempt at comfort, but it was better than nothing. Matthew nodded slightly and snuggled up close to the warm chest.

They laid their quietly, listening to the rain as it continued pouring down. Gilbert would run his fingers in lazy circles along Matthew's back when the thunder would decide to kick in and Matthew would settle into the touch, blue-violet eyes fluttering closed.

The thunder didn't last long, however, and after about fifteen minutes or so of silence, the rain began to let up.

"I think I might have so old clothes in the attic." Matthew murmured as Gilbert let his arms fall slack around his waist.

"Clothes that fit…?"

"Maybe…They're awfully old though…" Matthew shifted so he was able to look at Gilbert. The Albino still had his eyes closed however, and Matthew couldn't help but smile. It was strange to see Gilbert so calm and quiet. It was rather nice…

"I can't get to the attic though, so you'll have to get them for me." Matthew said, reaching forward to brush a strand of white hair out of Gilbert's face. The Albino's eyes slipped open at the contact and he watched as Matthew pulled back and smiled. "And then I guess we can go when the rain stops or something."

Gilbert frowned. "Go…? Go where…?'

Matthew pouted slightly. "Shopping, dummy. You said we could go today because you have the day off!" He folded his little arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me you already forgot!"

Gilbert groaned.

Right…

Shopping…

Gilbert could already feel his pride as a man slowly slipping away…

With an irritated huff, Gilbert sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the couch. Matthew stifled a laugh at the site of Gilbert's hair and grumpy expression, and followed suit…only doing a bit more _sliding _off. "Attic, you said…?" Gilbert asked as he ran a rough hand over his face. He frowned when he felt the beginnings of stubble along his chin.

Matthew nodded and Gilbert let out an exasperated groan.

"Fucking A…" He growled, before lumbering over to the stairs.

-----

It had taken close to half an hour to pull down the boxes from the attic and sort through them to look for clothes that Matthew could fit into. They found old portraits and christmas lights, and other decorations and old antiques. Finally, after opening a very old box that looked to be about to fall apart, they found what they were looking for. Gilbert had pulled out a pair of brown pants, a blue button down shirt and vest, as well as some tiny shoes and a pair of glasses that were slightly bent. Matthew had suddenly become giddy, talking about how he used to wear the outfit when he was younger. He hadn't even realized he had kept the glasses from so long ago. Matthew had slipped them onto his face and Gilbert laughed when the little boy suddenly turned cross eyed and dizzy. Matthew had hastily pulled them off and set them aside and rubbed at his eyes.

Gilbert suddenly furrowed his eyebrows and looked over at Matthew. "How old did you say these were again…?" He asked.

Matthew shifted slightly on the ground next to him as they examined the clothes. "C-close to three hundred or so years. It was back when I was still a colony so…" He eyed the clothing warily and then looked up at Gilbert.

The Albino was sitting next to him, the pair of brown pants in his hands held at arm's-length as he scrutinized them. "Three hundred years…" He repeated.

"More or less…" The child murmured. In his hands he held a blue shirt and a vest lay off to the side, disregarded by both of the males.

"And your seriously going to wear these?"

"Do I have a choice…?"

Gilbert frowned and folded the pants, tossing them over into Matthew's lap before standing up. "What about underwear?"

Matthew wrinkled his nose at the thought of three hundred year old underwear.

_Gross._

"I-I think I can manage." He murmured before taking the pants and standing up. "I-I'll go change now I guess…" He gave Gilbert a wry smile before heading towards the bathroom.

He didn't see the devilish smirk that spread across Gilbert's face as he closed the door…

-----

Francis Bonnefoy was in a hurry. A hurry indeed. He held a plastic bag full of coffee and tea and soups and other such things that one would bring to someone who was sick. In the other, was an umbrella as he jogged his way through the drizzling rain.

_Mon dieu_ this wasn't doing his hair any good. And his nice leather shoes!

Ah, but he couldn't forget about why he was out here in the first place.

Matthew!

His poor little Matthew was ill and stuck at home with nothing more than that ignorant _prusse_ to take care of him. Granted, Francis was friends with the Prussian, but there were just some people he didn't trust to take care of his little Matthew. It didn't matter if said person was romantically attached to the Canadian. It still meant he was incapable of properly taking care of him.

Francis thought so anyway. Antonio had tried to encourage him to stay at the café and check up on the young nation after work, but the Frenchman had refused. He simply couldn't bear the thought of Matthew home alone with that beer guzzling kraut.

Oh dear, kraut? Was he turning into Angleterre?!

Francis shook his head, quickly clearing his head as he made his way up the sidewalk to Matthew's porch. He wasted no time, quickly closing the umbrella and tucking it beneath his arm. Without even so much as a knock or ring of the doorbell, Francis grabbed the knob and barged right in.

He froze, momentarily blinded by the sight in front of him. The laughter that had been echoing through the house just moments before suddenly fell deathly quiet. Francis stood silent, still as a statue. Gilbert stared up at the man, wide-eyed and hands pulling away from the young child beneath him.

The bag of coffee and tea dropped to the floor with a resounding _thud_ that made Gilbert and the child flinch.

"P-papa…?" The child squeaked.

Francis' cerulean eyes slowly slid from the horrified look of the Prussian, to the absolutely terrified expression of the small childs.

Wait…

That curl…Didn't that belong to…?

And he could never mistake that blue-violet eyes…

But how…?

What on earth…!?

"…Mathieu…?"

The small child beneath Gilbert nodded stiffly, slowly sitting up. Francis stared, eyes very nearly about to burst out of his skull. A small utterance of "_merde_" was all the albino and child heard before the Frenchmen toppled over face first.

Francis had fainted…

-----

"So you're saying…" Francis murmured, stroking his stubbled chin idly. "That our little Angleterre made a little…ah…_fluke_ while trying to get revenge on Alfred…?" He looked up warily from the sidewalk to Gilbert who seemed to be as equally frustrated and confused as he was.

"Pretty much." The albino replied, shifting the red umbrella that was tucked underneath his left arm. Matthew was clinging to his right hand for dear life, eyes wide as he looked around at the suddenly _very_ large buildings and people. "I don't know what the hell was going through that guy's head." He muttered.

Francis nodded slightly, silently thinking that it must have been the man's cooking. Eating charcoal just couldn't be good for your health, could it? The Frenchmen heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his bangs ( the rest of his hair had been tied back with a blue ribbon. )

Francis shivered slightly and adjusted the scarf around his neck. "So we go for a bit of shopping, get mon petit Mathieu a few stylish outfits so he doesn't have to go around in those dreadful rags…and then what?"

Gilbert pursed his lips into a fine line. "M'not really sure. Arthur never said anything other than 'don't do anything stupid'." The Prussian rolled his eyes. "So the best I can think of is we just keep on going like nothing's happened."

"Easy for you to say…" Matthew grumbled from beside him. He stiffened when a woman walked passed with a large German shepherd. Gilbert couldn't help but laugh at the way Matthew's eyes bugged out at the sight of the animal.

"Don't worry, Matt, nothin' gonna get you." Gilbert chuckled.

Francis smiled. "Not that anything would want to hurt such an adorable thing."

Matthew flushed a deep read and buried his face into Gilbert's side, only making the Prussian laugh louder.

It was only around noon, so the sidewalks were mostly empty excluding the occasional passerby. A thin mist hung over the city, streets still wet from the mornings rainstorm and the skies threatening to spill more. The trio walked to their destination despite the dreary weather, giving nothing but idle chatter along the way. Francis would occasionaly ask about a particular detail of the story Gilbert had told him earlier, and Gilbert would gladly give him the information needed. When they reached the store, however, the idle conversation dropped for something a bit more lively…

On Francis' part anyways.

The Frenchmen's face lit up as he dragged Matthew away into the clothing department. Matthew had protested vehemently to being pried away from Gilbert, but the Prussian did nothing to help the small Canadian, merely trailing closely behind him and laughing.

Now, Francis believed himself to be quite stylish, and stylish he was. In a matter of minutes, he had managed to compile several outfits for the young child to wear. It didn't take near as long as Gilbert had expected it to ( although this was mostly impart because he almost never went shopping and wasn't exactly planning on Francis being there with them. ) So even though Francis had prattled on and on about how "simply adorable" is little Matthew was, Gilbert grudgingly thanked him in the end.

When the trio stepped out of the clothing department, Matthew had changed into a nice pair of jeans and a black button down shirt. It was covered, however, with a long coat and scarf. He smiled happily, glad to have something to keep him warm and dry.

"The café isn't far from here, why don't we stop by? I need to check up on the boys anyway." Francis suggested.

Gilbert gave him a wary look, as did Matthew. "Francis…" The Albino started, but he was cut off before he could continue.

"Don't fret, Prusse. Come now, we'll grab a cup of coffee and maybe some cake." The Frenchmen smiled. "My treat."

"O-oui, Papa." Matthew gave a timid smile, taking Gilbert's hand again as the Trio started off in a new direction. Gilbert didn't miss the nervous look on Matthew's face, and he gave the tiny hand a gentle squeeze.

-----

One thing that many of the Nation-peoples enjoyed was that while they did have to fiddle with their government affairs every now and then, for the most part, they were able to do whatever it was that they wanted. Some spent most of their time at home enjoying the quiet life that modern society somehow managed to present upon them. Other's would busy themselves with human work, going out and getting a job just to keep themselves occupied.

For some, they actually started their own business. Francis was a prime example of such.

The little trio stepped into the small café, a light chiming noise ringing above their heads as they walked in. The smells of coffee and tea and the slightest hint of vanilla wafted around the building in a pleasant chorus of aroma's. Francis smiled as he made his way to the counter, greeting a few of the customer's on the way. Gilbert seemed to relax a bit ( for some reason, the smell of coffee always helped ease his nerves. It was much like a substitute beer for him. )

A bright and cheery face suddenly popped up in front of Gilbert and Matthew. "Mi Amigo!" And suddenly Gilbert was pulled into an over exuberant hug. Antonio laughed brightly and slapped him on the back a couple of times before pulling back. "What's goin' on? You haven't been to work in a few days!"

Gilbert momentarily kicked himself in the arse for forgetting just exactly _who_ he worked with. Antonio that nosy bastard…

"…Uhm…Matthew was…" Gilbert frowned and glanced down at the child by his side. Matthew seemed to be at a loss as well. How exactly would you go about explaining that you skipped work because a magic spell went bad and turned your lover into a child?

"Wow!" And suddenly the answer presented itself as Antonio looked down at Gilbert's tag along. "Dios mio, is that Matt!?" The Spaniard crouched down to eye level with Matthew who instinctively flinched back.

"O-oui. Hello, Antonio…" Matthew mumbled.

Gilbert growled slightly and stepped in between the two. "Antonio, shouldn't you be uh…running the register or something?"

"Ha ha, No. Francis gave me cleaning duty today. What a bummer, huh?" The brown haired man shook his head slightly and stood up again. Gilbert and Matthew silently wondered how the Spaniard seemed to think the whole '_Mattie's a kid now_' thing was completely ordinary. He hadn't even asked anything about it. And apparently he wasn't as he suddenly turned around and bounced off. "I'll talk to you later, Gilbo!" He called before he disappeared behind the cashier counter and into the back of the café.

Gilbert stood there for a moment looking to be at a loss for words before he finally had the mind to move. He walked forward, and took a seat at a table that Francis had just finished setting up. The Frenchmen had set down opposite Gilbert while Matthew had told them politely that he was going to go talk with Romano and Antonio. The old friends nodded and Matthew gave them a quick smile before running off.

"So Arthur said that he'd look for a solution for the problem, yes?" Francis asked, gaining his former charge's attention.

"That's what he said. But apparently it may take a while." He said. The Prussian shifted rather uncomfortably in his seat.

"And how have you been handling this? Everything is going well I presume…?" Francis looked over at Gilbert to watch his face fall. "Or is that a non…?"

Gilbert sighed heavily, folding his arms on top of the table. "It's…ah…different." He said slowly. "Definitely a big whoop in the ass if I ever felt one…" Francis raised his eyebrows in question. "How would you feel if your lover suddenly turned into a kid!" Gilbert said, flailing ever so slightly.

Francis smiled calmly and Gilbert suddenly cringed. One thing he had learned in the past was the Francis' love life was a bit of a touchy subject. Not for the fact that he, the embodiment of France, couldn't find love…but that he did and had lost that very love of his life to the flames. Gilbert had learned early on that bringing up any memories of that fabled woman in knights armor, Joan, was a bad idea. The Frenchmen waved a dismissive hand, however, and politely brushed off the comment. "I wouldn't be the least bit deterred." He said simply. "After all, love knows no bounds. Isn't that the famous saying?"

Gilbert nearly gawked at him. "N-no bounds…? He's a _kid_ Francis! That's gotta change something!"

"But he wasn't before."

"But he is _now_!"

Francis frowned and propped his head up on his hands. "And why is it that you have to change just because he looks a little different?"

"Speaking of 'little'," Gilbert ground out. "Have you not seen the size of him? He looks like an eight year old."

"Answer my question, Gilbert."

The Ablino narrowed his eyes and huffed, leaning back in his chair. "I'm not saying."

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because it's not awesome. It's cheesy and you'll laugh at me." Was Gilbert's response.

Something glinted in Francis' eyes and he shifted forward. "Tell me what it is, _Prusse_." He said quietly.

Gilbert seemed to sink into his chair. "I…" The words suddenly died in his throat and he struggled to force them out. "I'm…scared, actually…" He glanced up to gage Francis' reaction, but the blonde man merely sat quietly. "I'm scared…that I'll hurt him."

Francis blinked and slowly began to sit straighter in his chair. Gilbert…? Afraid…?

And of hurting someone no less.

The Albino refused to meet Francis' gaze now, and determinedly glared at the table. "Prusse…Why would I laugh at such a thing?" Francis murmured. His expression softened slightly. To think, that Gilbert really _did_ care about Matthew this much. It was always a shock to have found that Gilbert had fallen in love, and it was an even bigger one to realize just how deep the feelings were that the Albino shared for Matthew.

"Because you're an ass?" Gilbert glanced up momentarily but quickly went back to glaring at the table. "Everyone seems to like pointing out how soft I am these days and it's really starting to piss me off."

"But it's true, Gilbert." Francis laughed lightly and tapped a finger against his stubbly chin. "But it's rather admirable for you to feel that way. Most people thought it was a big mistake for Mathieu to start a relationship with you."

"You were against it too!"

"Only because I knew how you could be. Believe it or not, you tend to misjudge things quite often and don't particularly give a rat's ass to other people's emotions."

"As it should be."

"Except for Mathieu…"

Gilbert stiffened in his seat and narrowed his eyes. He actually looked up this time, and held his gaze furiously with Francis. The Frenchmen smiled in response, disregarding the hateful waves being sent in his direction. "You say you don't want to hurt him." And suddenly the smile disappeared, turning much more serious. Gilbert nodded stiffly in response. "I don't really think that's possible, _Prusse_."

Gilbert exhaled sharply. "You think I can't hurt him?" He said incredulously. "Francis, he's a _kid_! I could end up _breaking _him if I wasn't careful! I mean, it…It changes things! …right…?"

Francis frowned. "Changes what, Gilbert?" He asked simply.

Gilbert faltered in his response, but managed to squeeze out a rather weak answer. "I can't…I can't do anything with him anymore…"

There was a brief silence between the two before Francis leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. "Gilbert…vous êtes un idiot."

"H-hey!"

"It's true, my friend, now shut up for a moment and let me speak." Francis sat back in his chair, fingers tracing idle patterns into the diaphanous table cloth. "I don't believe that you can hurt him." He said. When Gilbert opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, Francis shot him a look that instantly shut the man up. "I say this because mon petit Mathieu _trusts_ you. He knows you can't hurt him, even if you try." A wry smile tugged at his lips. "You're too much of a lover to become a threat, if that makes any sense."

"Not really…" Gilbert murmured.

Francis heaved a sigh. "Then let me put it this way so your tiny brain can comprehend. Mathieu, the man you fell in love with, is the same man, just a little smaller. He has the same thoughts, the same memories, the same _needs_. And even though you're going through this little internal conflict, you have to realize that maybe our little Mathieu doesn't really mind the change and just considers it a bump in the road, as you should." He watched as Gilbert took in the information he was giving, and how slowly, Gilbert's expression seemed to ease into a calmer visage. "Mathieu trusts you to make the right decisions. He knows you, Gilbert. Better than any of us probably do, and trusts you more than anyone else ever has. He trusts you enough to know that no matter what you do, you could never deliberately hurt him."

"But what if-"

"And if by chance you are to hurt him by _accident_, then it will quickly be forgiven. You have nothing to worry about, Gilbert." Francis smiled softly. "Just don't end up ignoring him. I'm sure that would hurt him far more than just being extra gentle with your touches. His not a kid, Gilbert. Mathieu's a man. Treat him like one."

And with that, Francis stood just as Matthew walked out of the kitchen. "I'm afraid I'll have to end this conversation here, however. I have much work to do as a certain employee decided to take the week off." Francis smiled when Gilbert stuck out his tongue at him. "And little Mathieu, I will be seeing more of you later. We'll have to catch up some time, it's been a while since we last talked." He gave Matthew a quick kiss on the forehead and an affectionate hug.

Matthew returned the hug and nodded. "Oui, Papa. We need to go anyway, it looks like it's going to start raining again anyways." The little child smiled brightly and hovered over towards Gilbert. The Albino stood up slowly and ran a hand through his hair.

"Francis." Gilbert held out a hand towards the Frenchmen. "Thanks."

Francis stood there looking utterly bemused for a few moments before a pleasant smile spread across his face. He grasped the outstretched hands in his own and gave it a firm shake. "It was nothing, Gilbert. Now go ahead and go home. I'll expect you to be at work on Monday." And with that, Francis turned on his heel and left them both.

-----

The rain had begun pouring when Matthew and Gilbert were only halfway home. Hastily, Gilbert had brought out the red umbrella and opened it up, hugging Matthew close to his side as they ambled their way through the streets. When the thunder started rolling above their heads, however, Matthew had refused to go on. He was too busy covering his ears and closing his eyes and it made it rather difficult to keep walking.

Gilbert sighed heavily and bent down so he was face to face with Matthew. "C'mon, kid, it's just a little rain."

Matthew shook his head. "G-gil, I hate th-thunder. You k-know that!" He sniffled, stiffening when a low rumble slowly stretched out over them.

Gilbert frowned. "It's just noise, Matt."

"A-and I hate loud noises!"

"But you're being ridiculous, Mattie! You can still walk, can't you?" The reply he got was a rapid shaking of the head. "…Do I have to carry you?" The Prussian asked in strained voice. Matthew stared up at him with wide eyes.

"C-carry m-EEK!" A loud clap of thunder, and suddenly Matthew's arms were around Gilbert's neck and clinging onto him for dear life.

Gilbert had to admit that even he was slightly surprised by that thunder clap, although it might have been the shriek that followed that had scared him more. He stood there for several moments, trying to process what the hell had just happened until he realized that Matthew was _shaking_. "Since when did you hate thunderstorms." He asked slowly.

Matthew loosened his grip a fraction but refused to let go. "S-since forever. We just don't get a lot of thunder s-storms is all." The voice was muffled, but Gilbert could at least understand it.

The albino exhaled noisily and wrapped his arms around the small body. Matthew pulled his head back, opening his mouth in protest until he felt the ground beneath him disappear. Gilbert hooked an arm beneath Matthew's waist to hold him up while he held the umbrella in the other hand. "Since you refuse to _walk_…" The grumbled, and started back for the house.

Matthew was silent for some time, still not quite sure how to respond to the sudden change in position. Eventually, however, he rested his head against Gilbert's shoulder and kept his arms wrapped around his neck. It wasn't long before his eyes slipped closed and he suddenly fell oblivious to the tremors in the sky echoing overhead.

-----


	4. Comrades

04

- COMRADES -

"No."

It was a simple word uttered that Thursday afternoon, and it sent Matthew into a bit of a panic.

Gilbert's face was stern, and Matthew didn't like the way it looked on the silverette. His white brows were pulled together, eyes narrowed, and lips drawn into a thin line as he stared at the small child next to him. Matthew felt something in his chest sink; some sort of premonition that doom was well on its way.

But that was all too true as Ivan was supposed to be coming over later that day.

…which was the precise reason why Gilbert was so unhappy at the moment.

The history with Gilbert and Ivan, or rather Russia and East Germany, was a rocky one. The two had never gotten along, or at least Gilbert had said so. Ivan had frequently commented on how much fun the days of the GDR were, but the creepy curl of his lips and eerie glint in his eyes seemed to say otherwise. It was certainly fun, but in Ivan's own little twisted way. Gilbert had more or less been terrified of the man, and though nowadays it was more of a suppressed rage, every once in a while when he was around the violet eyed Russian, Gilbert would find himself afraid.

That was one feeling the Awesome him just was _not_ supposed to feel.

"Gil, I know you don't like him but-"

"I said no, Matthew." There was a slight twitch to the Albino's right eye, a clear sign that he wasn't going to have any of it.

Matthew let his head drop down helplessly. This was not his day. Definitely not. "Can't you at least deal with him for one day?" He looked up pleadingly, eyes wide and bottom lip sticking out in the slightest hint of a pout.

Gilbert had wavered slightly at the sudden change in Matthew's expression. Silently, he cursed himself for being such a sucker for cute things, and averted his ruby gaze to the television. "No." He ground out through gritted teeth. Matthew's face fell and he went back to staring at his feet.

"It's just for an hour or two…"

"No means no."

"You don't even have to be in the same room, Gil."

"And he doesn't even have to be in our _house_!"

"But he's my friend…"

"And something's obviously messed up in that head of yours because after what he put me through, I'd rather not even have to _look_ at his ugly face."

"Gil, that's not nice."

Gilbert leveled a nasty glare with the small child sitting next to him. "Not nice?" He mumbled, and Matthew suddenly found himself regretting his words. "I can give you a pretty good picture of what _not nice_ is, Kid. It's not pretty."

Matthew tensed slightly, "N-no, that's not what…I mean I…G-gil, _please_! I've been looking forward to this all week!" And suddenly he was big eyed and pouting again. "I don't want to have to cancel at the last minute, it's rude!"

"Well he can fucking deal with it himself!" Gilbert snapped. He turned his head to the side, purposefully avoiding the blue-violet gaze aimed at him.

"Just an hour! Please? That's all I'm asking! One hour!" Matthew edged towards the German, climbing to his hands and knees on the couch as he attempted to get the man to look at him. "_Please!?_"

All it took was one glance, one measly little turn of the neck and Gilbert's resolve cracked like an eggshell and shattered to pieces. The expression he received was just too…adorable to put it simply. The poor child had his hands clasped together and held under his chin as if he were praying, but his blue-violet eyes were wide open, lips pulled into a delicate pout and cheeks puffed out just ever so slightly. Gilbert couldn't help but stare, heavily fighting the urge to _pet_ the child next to him. Instead, he opened his mouth, about to protest when his brain suddenly decided to take an alternate course.

"Fine."

Matthew's face instantly lit up and he threw himself at the Prussian. "Thank you!" He said, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck. "I promise he won't be here for long!" He pulled back, giving a quick kiss on Gilbert's cheek and then climbed off the couch and dashed up the stairs to find his hockey jersey.

Gilbert was left looking utterly perplexed and slightly alarmed. He blinked a few times and then slowly lifted a pale hand to touch the spot on his cheek. He couldn't help that he felt rather uneasy at just the simple contact. If Matthew had looked any older, he wouldn't have had a problem with it, and yet…

'_Mathieu's a man._' Francis' words echoed through his head. '_Treat him like one._'

Gilbert exhaled heavily and turned to face the television. "Right…" He murmured softly. "Just act normal…"

Not a moment later and Matthew had practically jumped down the stairs and straight into Gilbert's lap. The smile was strained on the German's face at first, but after the two had gotten comfortable and Matthew had nestled into the large man's lap, his smile was normal, the same crooked grin it usually was.

It wasn't much, and Matthew had hardly even noticed it, but Gilbert planted a kiss to the top of his head.

Nothing's changed, he told himself. Nothing's wrong, and everything's just fine.

Later that day, however, things did indeed change for the worse.

-----

It started with the damned doorbell.

Gilbert had been in the kitchen, cleaning of a knife when it had gone off and he ended up slitting the palm of his hand. The knife dropped in the sink with a clatter and he swore loudly, hastily grabbing a cloth and holding it against the open wound. The doorbell went off a second time, and Gilbert hurriedly ran around the counter of the kitchen and yanked it open.

He was greeted with violet eyes and an almost too-innocent smile.

Gilbert stood there for a total of three point six seconds before he slammed the door and returned to the kitchen to clean his bleeding hand.

The doorbell rang a third time, and suddenly Matthew was at the foot of the stairs, hastily making his way to the door. It clicked open, and Gilbert listened as Ivan stepped inside, murmuring a 'thank you, little Matvey' and 'how is it that you are doing today?'. The childlike voice grated against his ears and suddenly his hand didn't hurt anymore. He quickly pulled it away from the cool water and fumbled through the drawers for some sort of bandage.

"Ah~ What a pleaser it is to see you, East. It has been a long time, da?"

Gilbert snapped his head back from peering into one of the cabinets and swore loudly when his skull made contact with the hard wood. "That's _Prussia_ to you, bastard." He snarled, cringing ever so slightly when his head throbbed in protest to the loud noises. "And it hasn't been nearly long enough. I could have gone a few more centuries without seeing your ugly face."

Ivan stood in the entryway to the kitchen, a case of vodka in one hand, and the other one held up to his lips as he stifled a light laugh. Matthew had quickly slipped behind the large man to stand in between them in hopes that Gilbert wouldn't lunge at the Russian. He opened his little mouth to say something, but quickly back peddled when he saw the red stains on the kitchen cloth. "Gilbert!?" He hollered, hastily making his way over to the Silverette.

Gilbert waved him off, clenching the towel tighter in his hands. "It's nothin', Matt." He murmured, standing up. Matthew frowned.

"Like hell it is! What did you do!?" He made a grab for the injured hand, but Gilbert yanked it away.

"It's nothing, now drop it!" He snapped, eyes darting from the small child to the large hulking mass obstructing his way to the hallway.

Ivan smiled brightly and stepped forward. "It looks a bit more like nothing, Eas-"

"Prussia."

"Gilbert, Maybe you should let little Matvey take a look at it."

Ruby eyes narrowed to slits. "I'll take care of it myself." He growled before shoving passed Matthew and Ivan and jogging up the stairs. The two were left standing in the kitchen alone. Ivan couldn't help but notice the rather hurt expression on the little Canadian's face. He shifted, placing the vodka on the counter and kneeled down to where he was eyelevel with the child.

"East is merely over-reacting. Do not fret, little Matvey." He gave a reassuring pat to Matthew's shoulder.

"I…suppose…" Matthew murmured, staring at the staircase.

"I don't mean to be rude," Ivan started, letting his hand drop down to his knees. "But why is it that little Matvey is so…_little_ now?"

The tiny Canadian jumped slightly. He flushed a deep red and smacked his forehead with his palm. "I-I'm so sorry! I forgot to tell you, didn't I!?" How could he possibly have forgotten? "I'll, erm, explain later. If you'll excuse me, I need to see if Gilbert's ok."

"I'll be in the living room then." Ivan said.

Matthew gave him a curt nod before running up the stairs.

Gilbert was hunched over the sink, furiously rubbing at his hand in a vain attempt to get the blood off of his skin. The cloth he was using had been coloured the same bright red as his hand, and the water tinted a light pink as it ran over his skin. Silently, he muttered to himself, cursing the Russian and making other obscene comments about doorbells and knives. Matthew stepped in quietly, shutting the door behind him with a small _click_.

"Gilbert…?" The incessant scrubbing and curses abruptly stopped and Gilbert craned his neck to peer down at the small child.

"Was?"

"Gil, what did you do to your hand…?"

"Ich…I cut it." The Albino paused briefly and hastily added in. "On accident. I was cleaning off some of the cutlery and…an-What's with that look?"

Matthew was pouting again ( a look that seemed to be appearing quite often lately, Gilbert dimly wondered if the little Canadian was doing it on purpose ). "You promised you'd put up with Ivan for today." He said sullenly.

Gilbert chewed on the inside of his cheek. Right…He had promised, hadn't he? He looked back down at his injured hand, assessing that the bleeding had seemed to stop slightly. With a heavy sigh, he wiped off the wound one last time and turned off the tap before digging through the cabinets for the first aid kit. "Yeah, I know…" He murmured. Matthew watched as he pulled out gauze and bandage tape. "I won't rip his throat out."

"Could you try not to yell at him either?"

"…Maybe…"

"A-and no death threats!"

"…Not even one…?" Gilbert looked up from his halfway wrapped up wound to stare at the small child beside him.

Matthew folded his arms across his chest. "Of course not! Gil, you _promised_!"

"And you really expect me to keep it?"

"Of course I do!"

The little room fell silent. Gilbert stared wearily down at Matthew, whilst Matthew glared up at Gilbert. No one seemed to want to say anything until Matthew spoke up. "Look," He shifted so he was staring at the ground again. "I know that you don' li- …that you hate Ivan, but I don't, and he's my friend." He glanced up. "And it's just for a hockey game which means he'll be gone in an hour or two. Y-you can handle him for that long, can't you…?"

Gilbert sighed heavily through his nose, staring at his bandaged hand. Oh how he wished he could just toss that large hulking atrocity out of his house, but the look Matthew was giving him, and that adorable little tone of voice he only used whenever he _really_ wanted something. He turned around and leaned against the counter. "Fine." He murmured. "But you _so_ owe me for this!"

Matthew smiled gently up at him. "Thanks, and please keep your promise this time."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, reaching out to scruff up the little boy's hair before he opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway. "Sure, kid. No guarantee's though."

And with that, he headed downstairs to the kitchen to finish making snacks for the Hockey game. Ivan smiled politely from the living room couch, and it took all of Gilbert's will power not to jump over said couch and strangle the man. Instead, he gave a strained smile and quickly made his way over to the kitchen counter.

-----

Matthew was pleased to say that Gilbert had actually kept his promise. Although he was sitting on the opposite couch as he and Ivan were, the Albino was actually _talking_ to the Russian. A little bit anyways. He would at least respond to questions he was asked, and maybe make a comment or two about how the game was going.

It was, Matthew had decided when they finally got to the second quarter, decidedly _awkward_.

In the hopes that the problem would fix itself, Matthew decided that just acting normal would do the trick, so he went on cheering for his team and doing little dances when they scored. He didn't miss the fact that Gilbert would watch him closely when he was doing his little jigs, and he'd always stop to grin at the German. But the Albino would always catch eye contact with Ivan and his bottle of vodka in hand and suddenly his expression turned sour and he quickly looked back at the television screen.

The third quarter had passed with relatively no scoring and very little exciting game play. Gilbert was slumped in his chair, glaring at the television set. Ivan was seated quietly, two empty vodka bottles placed on the table in front of him. His attention wasn't on the hockey game however.

"Little Matvey appears to have fallen asleep."

Gilbert looked over to Ivan and followed his violet gaze to the small child resting on the couch, head laid against the pillows and tiny hands curled into the fabric of the sofa. He was asleep alright…

"In the middle of a hockey game?" Gilbert mumbled, sitting up straighter and leaning forward to look at the sleeping child.

Ivan hummed delightedly. "The last quarter was quite boring, da? It does not surprise me much, really." He smiled brightly. "And I am sure the dancing he did last quarter has worn him out, da?"

Gilbert gave the large Russian a weary look before standing up. "Sure, I guess…" He grumbled as he stood over the sleeping figure. Carefully, he slipped his hands under the child's legs and shoulders and lifted him from the Couch. Matthew remained silent and sleeping, but unconsciously snuggled up to the warmth. Gilbert sighed heavily. "I'm gonna take him upstairs. I'll be right back."

"I'll be waiting." Ivan said with a smile.

Gilbert chose to ignore the rather chummy smile he received, and quickly made his way upstairs and to their bedroom. It was a bit of a hassle trying to open the door while his hands were full, but he managed and easily made his way over to the bed. Gently, he laid Matthew down, tucking him in and pulling the covers over the small body. Just as he was about to turn away, however, he paused, hands falling to rest at the edge of the blanket.

Matthew slept on silently, completely unaware of the man hovering over him. His breathing was light and easy, and that wayward curl of his bounced with every puff of air. Gilbert just stood there for several moments, watching the sleeping figure. Gently, he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair out of the little face.

_Matthew's a man,_ Gilbert reminded himself. _So nothing changes._

Very carefully, Gilbert leaned down and pressed his lips against Matthew's. He lingered only long enough to marvel at how soft the lips were, and how he still tasted of maple. But it was only meant to last a few seconds, and Gilbert pulled back to plant another kiss on Matthew's forehead. He pulled away slowly, murmuring a quiet "Shlaf gut, Klien Engel." Before he turned on his heel and headed towards the door.

He pulled the door shut quietly behind him and sighed heavily as he stared at the oaken door.

"Is it normal for a grown man to be intimate with a child?"

To say the voice startled him was an understatement. Gilbert jumped back, eyes wide and mouth falling open to let out a yell. He was stilled, however, when he locked gazes with a pair of deathly cold violet eyes.

…Russia…

"What are yo-"

"I asked a question, _East_."

Red eyes flicked towards the bathroom and then back. Escape, he had learned in the past, was quite a futile thing when it came to Russia. It didn't matter that he wasn't the large U.S.S.R. anymore; he still scared the shit out of Gilbert.

"I am growing impatient, East." Russia pushed off of the wall he was leaning against as Gilbert took a step back.

"No. No it's not normal." When the hell did his voice get so quiet and small? Gilbert did his best not to shudder or yell like he wanted to. Instead, he squared his shoulders and balled his hands into fists in a vain attempt to look stronger. It was thwarted easily by the other man's size however, and he shrank back when Russia took another step forward.

"Then why is it that you stay with Matvey when he is like this?"

"I-I don't-"

"There's a word for the relationship you two have right now, isn't there?"

Gilbert stiffened, Russia smiled, and suddenly the room temperature dropped to below freezing. It wasn't Russia's doing, however. The hulking mass stood, smile slowly widening until just the barest hints of teeth were showing behind pale lips. Gilbert had leveled such a malicious glare at the man, that Russia found it just a bit unnerving.

Just a bit, really, he was having too much fun to be bothered by it.

"If you dare say i-"

"Pedophilia."

And suddenly the room had dropped to sub-zero temperatures.

"…get out…"

Russia quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. "And why should I, East? Last I knew, you were in no position to give me orders."

"That was twenty years ago!"

"You forget, little East, You no longer have any power. You have no country or land."

"I-I have New Prussia!"

"A mere settlement? That does not sound very convincing. What next, East? You live for your people? Tell me, how many people actually claim to be Prussian these days?" Russia let his smile waver briefly. "You have nothing, Gilbert. You _are_ nothing. You've been reduced to nothing more than a simple domesticity and an intimate relationship with a _child_."

"Just get out!" Gilbert snapped.

Russia seemed undaunted however, and stepped forward. Gilbert hastily tried to keep the distance between them even, but it was a futile effort. In a matter of seconds, he found himself face to face with those icy violet eyes, back pressed up against the wall.

"Matvey is very dear to me, East. I will not stand to have you harm him in any way." Russia reached up to grab Gilbert's face, holding it firmly in place so the German was forced to look him in the eye. "If you hurt him, East, just remember that I _will_ be watching."

The cold hand left his face and Gilbert was only able to watch as Russia turned around and clomped down the stairs.

It wasn't much, but Gilbert dimly decided that he liked Ivan a whole lot more.

He slid down the wall until he was on the floor, staring at the railing of the stair way at the end of the hall. He was shaking, eyes wide and hands gripping at the carpet in a vain attempt to bring his nerves to ease.

Twenty years…Twenty years and Russia could still send him quaking in his boots.

Twenty years, and that violet eyed bastard still knew how to make him paranoid and uneasy, and just downright sick with himself.

* * *

_**A/N: **ahahahaa.....So I kinda sorta lost internet for a week...and we finally got it back today. |D I very nearly cried when it started working again. fanfictioni'vemissedyousomuch-sob-_

_Anyway~_  
_If all goes as planned, this story will be finished up on MONDAY~_

_And then I can start up the OMAKE and bonus stories._  
__


	5. Distance

05

- DISTANCE -

Matthew had found Gilbert on the couch on Friday morning. He couldn't quite figure out why the silverette would sleep there, as he had complained about it many times. Gilbert had said on multiple occasions that it always made his back hurt and he would wake up with a headache if ever he slept on the sofa.

But that's where Matthew found him, curled up on the couch with his head buried into the pillows.

That was the first indication that something was wrong.

The second was he had woken up not a moment later screaming.

Matthew jumped back, nearly crashing into the coffee table and let out a surprised yelp. Hastily, he stepped forward, reaching for Gilbert as the man suddenly erupted into frantic yells and strings of German phrases that Matthew couldn't quite understand. Matthew's little hands fumbled to get a good grip on Gilbert's shoulder, but he could feel the man shaking. And when he saw his face, Matthew noticed there were tears at the edges of his ruby red eyes.

Matthew suddenly froze. Gilbert was crying…? "G-gil, wha-"

He didn't have much chance to say anything else however. Gilbert had taken one look at him, and then jumped off the couch and ran to the bathroom.

That was indication number three that there was something very, _very_ wrong…

Matthew quickly followed Gilbert to the bathroom, but the door was shut tight, and when he tried to open it, he found it to be locked.

"Gil?" Matthew knocked lightly on the door.

"Go away…" was Gilbert's response. His voice was groggy and cracked, and there was something else in there that Matthew couldn't quite hear, but it made his chest flutter uncomfortably and his stomach churn.

"Gilbert, what's wrong?"

"I said go away, Matthew."

"But you won't tell me what's wrong!"

"And I don't really_ feel_ like telling you, Canada. Go. _Away_."

Matthew flinched. Canada. Gilbert never called him Canada. "Gil…" He lifted a hand to press against the bathroom door, but Gilbert gave no response. Matthew let out a sigh and slowly made his way back into the living room. He climbed up onto the couch and curled up into a ball, hugging one of the couch pillows close to his chest.

Gilbert wasn't talking to him. Great. What a perfect way to start off Friday morning.

-----

Gilbert had been in the bathroom for two hours.

Two. Whole. Hours.

One hundred and twenty minutes.

And Matthew hadn't heard a thing from him.

The little Canadian was in the kitchen when he suddenly had this revelation. He had an apple in one hand, and he was staring at the clock. Said clock read off the numbers 09:24, and it was about this time that they would usually be finished with breakfast and Gilbert would have to hurry off before he was late to work ( which started at 10:00 sharp )

Matthew watched as the clock ticked by another minute, thus making it 09:25.

Nothing changed in that measly minute. Gilbert was still in the bathroom, refusing to talk to anybody but himself ( Matthew had walked by once or twice in the past two hours and heard the man muttering to himself in German ), the apple in Matthew's hand that he had gotten almost thirty minutes ago, remained untouched. The only thing that did change was the sinking feeling from the day before finally hitting rock bottom. Gilbert was not talking to him, and Matthew had a feeling that it was going to stay that way for some time unless he did something.

But a sudden thought occurred to him, and the apple slipped from his hands. He paid no mind to it as it rolled across the floor and came to a rest at the feet of Kumajirou. Instead, he quickly grabbed a chair from the dining table and placed it in front of the counter, climbing up until he was able to grab the phone and punch in the seven digits he had memorized by heart.

He got the dial tone three times before someone answered.

"Bonjour, you've reached Le Roi Café. How may I help you?" came the heavily accented voice Matthew had been expecting.

"Francis?"

"…Mathieu…?"

"Francis, I have a favour to ask you."

"Of course, Chaton, what is it?"

"Well…It involves Gilbert…" And Matthew suddenly started speaking in a hushed tone and explained what had been going on with Gilbert.

Kumajirou plopped down on the floor and began to idly munch on the apple that had seemingly presented itself in his path.

Hey, it was free food.

-----

It was going on three hours when Francis and Matthew had finally figured out their plan. Francis had said he had to go to take care of business at the café, and Matthew bid him fair well and a 'good luck.' Matthew hung up the phone and climbed off of the counter. Very quietly, he made his way to the bathroom where Gilbert had decided to hole himself up into, and knocked quietly on the oaken door. "Gilbert?" He said softly.

He heard a soft shuffling, but no response.

"Gilbert, are you ok? You've been in here all morning…" Matthew tried the door knob again, but it was still locked. "Gil?"

Still no response.

Matthew sighed heavily and glared at the door. He was being so immature! What on earth had gotten into him anyways? The little Canadian huffed and looked around. There must be some way to get the door open. Eyeing the door knob, he noted how the handle had a small slit big enough for the end of a screw driver to slip into. A tiny smile played on his lips, and Matthew dashed off to the kitchen.

A few minutes passed before he finally found what he was looking for. He shut the junk drawer and quickly padded across the floor until he was in front of the bathroom door again. Very carefully, he lifted the screw driver and placed it in the small slit. He did his best to stay as silent as he possibly could and slowly turned the tool in his hands. There was a soft click, and Matthew gently placed the screw driver on the ground before grabbing the door knob and twisting it.

It gave way this time, and he was able to open the door with ease. "Gilbert?" He peaked in, and slowly slid the door open wider.

He was somewhat glad he had set the screw driver down, because surely it would have slipped through his fingers and made a loud clamor on the floor had he not.

Gilbert was huddled up as tight as he possibly could be between the Bathtub and the Toilet. His head was cradled between his knees and his arms wrapped around his shins. Matthew stood there, his mouth open and his eyes disbelieving the sight before them. "Gilbert…?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Gilbert jumped slightly and lifted his head enough to peer at Matthew through white bangs. He said nothing, however, and lowered his head back down.

"Gilbert…?" Matthew took a tentative step forward, reaching out to gently place a hand on Gilbert's knee. The Prussian flinched away at first, but Matthew quickly replaced the touch and he was forced to relax. "Gil, what's wrong…?"

There was a moment of silence before Gilbert finally responded. "Everything…" He grumbled.

Matthew couldn't help but recoil at the statement. He had a feeling that he was involved in this mess. "What…what do you mean? Gil, you can talk to me you know…" Matthew stepped forward and sat down in front of Gilbert, crossing his legs and folding his little hands in his lap.

Gilbert again took a while to respond. He shifted in his cramped spot and kept his head down. "So…" He began, voice cracking like it had earlier. "My uh…My ego's officially been shattered to pieces…" He murmured. Matthew frowned, finding that statement rather hard to believe. "And for once in my life, I don't feel awesome in the least…" Gilbert seemed to curl in on himself again, falling silent. He twisted his hands together nervously and then quietly added in, "And I'd much rather just be left alone to sulk in self pity and get lost in depressing thoughts. Maybe contemplate suicide for a while…Not like I'd go through with it, I'm too much of a coward anyway."

That had Matthew rather alarmed. "Gilbert, what on earth is going on?" He rolled onto his hands and knees and tried to peer up at Gilbert's face, but it was hidden between his knees. Gilbert didn't seem to want to respond. "Gil?" Matthew reached forward to lightly brush aside messy strands of silver. "Gilbert, you're acting really strange. What happened?"

This time Gilbert lifted his head and Matthew pulled back. The Albino's ruby eyes were hazed over and bloodshot and his lips were set into such a serious line that Matthew dimly wondered if he had said something wrong.

But Gilbert merely let out a shaky sigh and rested his head down again. "Russia, that's what…"

"…Russia…?"

"I only have nightmares when it's about _him_."

"O-oh…"

And the room lapsed into a rather uncomfortable silence. Matthew shifted forward so he was closer to Gilbert and brought a hand up to run through the silky strands of hair. "Aren't you going to eat or something…?" Matthew murmured softly. Gilbert gave a small shake of the head but stayed silent. Matthew sighed and tugged at Gilbert's shirt. "Would you at least come out of the bathroom…?" He asked. Gilbert again made no move to respond and Matthew was forced to stay where he was. He managed to get Gilbert in a position to where he could slip into the older man's lap, and when he was relaxed, he wrapped his arms around the older man's neck in a comforting gesture. "It was just a nightmare, Gil." He said softly into the silverette's shoulder.

"It scared the hell out of me, Matt…"

"I'm sorry, Gil, really. But you have to get over it." Matthew pulled away slightly so he could look at Gilbert in the eyes. "Please…? I'd rather you not starve…"

Gilbert relaxed a bit when Matthew placed his hand against his cheek and let his eyes slip closed. He wrapped his arms around the small body in his lap and let his head rest against Matthew's forehead. "Easier said than done…" He murmured.

Matthew bit his lip. "What…what was your dream about…?" He asked carefully. One wrong move and Gilbert would withdraw back into himself.

Gilbert opened his eyes again to look at him curiously, and then averted his gaze to the ground. "Nothing I want to talk about." He said softly.

"That bad…?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Gil." Matthew tightened his arms around Gilbert's neck and buried his face into his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He felt the arms around his waist tighten ever so slightly and he pulled back to see Gilbert's expression. His lips were tugging down into a frown. He looked…distraught. Gilbert never looked distraught. Matthew reached up to brush the Albino's bangs out of his face yet again, murmuring things under his breath in French ( Gilbert never admitted to knowing how to speak it, but he was just as fluent as Francis was. ) in a vain attempt to put the Prussian at ease. Gilbert seemed unfazed by the words however, and Matthew did the next best thing he could think of.

"Gil," He brought both hands down to cup the Prussian's face, thumbs moving in small semi-circles against the pale skin. "Please be happy, Gil." He shifted forward ever so slightly. "For me…please." And he brushed his lips against Gilbert's.

The contact sent shivers up Gilbert's spine and he gently returned the touch. His ruby eyes slipped shut and he let his hands fall to rest on Matthew's hips. Matthew curled his fingers into Gilbert's hair to bring him closer, parting his lips faintly. Gilbert complied rather easily, sighing softly into the kiss as he ran his tongue over Matthew's lips.

His eyes peaked open ever so slightly to take in Matthew's expression, and was pleased to find that the Canadian was looking at him as well.

But his eyes suddenly caught the light tendrils of violet threaded through Matthew's brilliantly blue irises and Gilbert stiffened.

Violet.

Ivan.

Russia…

The contact was broken, Gilbert's hands on Matthew's shoulders as he shoved the child—_the CHILD_—away from him and he stood up. He lifted a hand to cover his mouth, leaning against the wall for support before he abruptly took off out of the bathroom and out the front door.

Matthew flinched when he heard the door slam shut, and sat there in a stunned silence. He felt completely lost all of a sudden, his heart skipping in erratic beats and his stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots that made him feel sick. He sat there in complete stillness, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in disbelief.

He didn't know when it had started, but sometime after Kumajirou had wondered into the bathroom wondering why everyone seemed to be congregating in there, Matthew found himself clinging to the white fur and crying uncontrollably. Kumajirou was at a loss of what to do and simply gave soothing nuzzles to the small child, murmuring 'It's ok' to the boy every so often. Matthew merely cried louder every time and clutched the fur tighter, wishing beyond anything that he could just be normal again. That he could go back to being the adult Matthew he had been last week instead of the tiny, helpless child he was now.

-----

The commute to the café Gilbert worked at was a good thirty minutes from the house when walking.

Gilbert had gotten there in less than ten.

The doors to "_Le Roi Café_" flew open and Gilbert came charging in. He ignored the startled gasps and weary stares he received as he made his way inside and to the back. Francis was quick to respond to his distressed customer's and hurried out of the kitchen. His blue eyes were wide and his face held a sort of worry that Gilbert wasn't sure he had seen before. Before Gilbert had time to say anything, Francis had grabbed him by the collar and led him to a room in the back of the building. A storage room to be exact.

Francis spun him around so the two old friends were facing each other. "Gilbert." He said flatly, face becoming very serious. "What did you do…?"

The frazzled Prussian refused to sit still. He twisted his hands, looked around wildly, and once Francis let go of his shoulders, began pacing irately back and forth. "It…" He started, but the words died on his lips. "I don't…" again words failed him and he looked at Francis helplessly. "It's fucking _Russia_!" He finally said, throwing his arms into the air. "_Russia _of all people comes over for a fucking _hockey_ game!" Gilbert's eyes were wide, hair disheveled, and Francis noted with mild surprise that his face also looked rather…wet. "I'm actually getting _used_ to Matthew being a kid, and then he comes along and…and he…" Gilbert let out a frustrated growl, pulling at his hair and slumping to the ground against one of the shelves.

"And he what, Gilbert…?" Francis asked cautiously.

Gilbert lifted his head to look Francis in the eye. He opened his mouth as if he were about to respond, but he quickly snapped it shut, looking utterly ashamed and broken. He ducked his head between his knees and continued gripping at his hair.

"Prusse, if you keep doing that you'll go bald." Francis scolded lightly, stepping forward. "What did he do?"

Gilbert let his hands fall from his head and wrap around his knees, pulling them close to his chest. Francis frowned at the position of his old friend. After all, the last time he had ever looked so hurt and broken was after he had been freed from East Germany and he had withdrawn into himself from the years he had spent with Ivan.

"Prusse…" Francis shifted forward again, kneeling in front of the once great nation. "What did he do to you?" He reached out cautiously to place a reassuring hand on his friends shoulder, but the Prussian quickly shook it off.

Gilbert sucked in a deep breath and looked at Francis again, his gaze unwavering this time. Francis could clearly see the bloodshot eyes and tear strewn cheeks. He felt some sort of sympathy towards the man, and waited patiently for Gilbert to respond.

It took several minutes, but he finally responded. "Er…Er heißt mir ein Pädophile…" He murmured quietly, averting his gaze to the ground again.

Francis frowned. He…had he heard that properly…? "Pedophile…?" He asked.

Gilbert nodded stiffly, pulling his legs closer. "I can't…I can't do this Francis…Not when he's like that…" His voice was muffled and quiet, and Francis struggled to understand the Prussian's words. "I know what you said the other day. I remember it clear as day, but I can't fucking handle it when Braginski decides to start up his god damn mind games on me." Gilbert reached up to pull at his hair again, but Francis swiftly caught his hand in his own.

"Prusse…" Francis murmured gently. "Calm down, please."

"I hate him, Francis. I fucking _hate_ that bastard!"

"Ivan…?"

"No, damn it. _Russia_!"

Francis backpedaled slightly. "Gilbert, what are you-"

"Complete opposites, Francis. Live with him long enough and you'll learn to tell the difference." Gilbert lifted his head to glare at the Frenchmen. "Ivan's normal compared to what Russia is. I can't even _look_ at Matt without thinking about what he said yesterday. I had a fucking _nightmare_ last night to top it all off. I HAVEN'T HAD A NIGHTMARE IN YEARS!"

Francis reached out to press a thin finger against Gilbert's lips. "Shh, I know you're angry, but keep in mind we do have customer's in the other room." He quickly pulled his hand back when Gilbert gave him a look that basically said '_If you leave that there I will bite it off._' "A nightmare, you say?"

"I woke up screaming if that gives you a good enough idea of how bad it was." Gilbert murmured. He rested his chin on he his knees and began chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"Screaming…Merde, Prusse. What on earth has gotten into you? What could you possibly be drea-"

"You remember how I used to get while in a battle?"

"That depends, wha-"

"With Austria. I was always on a blood thirsty rampage and didn't really care who I killed. It was always a game more than anything…"

Francis cringed slightly. Yes, he remembered that well. Francis was there to experience it firsthand…multiple times. "Go on…"

"Imagine me like that, only it's Matthew that's beat up and bruised…" Gilbert's voice was barely audible now.

"But what does that have to do with Rus-"

"He's the little voice in my head saying that everything I'm doing is perfectly fine and th…and that Matthew's not really hurt even though he's broken and bleeding and right in front of me." Gilbert covered up his face again, his voice cracking as he spoke. "He was screaming at me to stop but I wouldn't listen, Francis. I wouldn't listen even though he was screaming and yelling and crying,"

"Gilbert,"

"And Russia was just standing there laughing, calling me things but encouraging me to do worse."

"Gilbert, listen to me…"

"And I listened to _him_, Francis." Gilbert's voice cracked again. "I fucking _listened_ to everything _he_ told me to do…"

Francis fell silent for some time, listening to Gilbert take in shaky breaths. "And what happened after that…?" He asked quietly.

Gilbert stiffened, wrapping his arms as tightly as he possibly could around his legs. He honestly just wanted to disappear at that moment. He could feel Francis staring at him, waiting for him to respond.

"He stopped screaming…" Was his reply, and for the first time in nearly twenty years, Gilbert let out a choked sob.

-----

The phone began ringing at around two o'clock that afternoon.

Matthew lifted his head from his fluffy polar bear pillow and stared at the phone as it continued playing Ode to Joy on repeat. The orange glow of the screen disappeared after a few minutes and the house fell silent. Matthew didn't bother to check if the caller left a message, he merely buried his face into the white fur. Gilbird chirped quietly from his perch on the bear's head, eyeing the small child with curiosity.

The phone rang a second time and Matthew let it ring just as he had before.

When Ode to Joy began its third concerto, Matthew pried himself away from the warm mammal and fumbled over to the phone. He climbed up on the counter just as he had that morning, using the chair as leverage, and grabbed the phone. He clicked the 'talk' button and pressed it against his ear.

"Hello?" He asked weakly.

"Mathieu?!" It was Francis.

"What?" He just wanted to sleep. Maybe devour the rest of the maple cookies that were currently in his pantry and just sulk for the rest of the day, but sleep was definitely on the list of things to do.

"Mon dieu, I see things are a little…ah…Well not going quite well I guess."

"Bullseye." Matthew mumbled, pulling his feet up onto the counter and laying down.

"Oh, mon petit chaton, je'suis désolé." Francis said hurriedly. "I was calling to tell you that Gilbert will be with me for the night. He's awfully upset and I will explain in good time, but for now, I want you to just relax, understood?"

"…relax…?" Matthew mumbled.

Francis sighed on the other side of the line, but it came through as a noisy crackle. "It will all make sense tomorrow, chaton. Do not worry." He paused to utter something in very clipped French to someone. Matthew didn't catch any of it however. "Things will be perfectly fine, Mathieu. I promise. Just give Gilbert a little time, ok?"

"For what? Francis I don't even know what-"

"Did he tell you about his nightmare…?"

Matthew fell silent. "N-no…he wouldn't."

"It's probably a good thing too. Mathieu, just take it easy for today and I'll fix everything." There was a light sigh and shuffling as Francis shifted the phone to the other ear. "You can trust me, Mathieu."

Matthew was silent for a few moments. "Francis…Is he mad at me…?"

There was a light laugh on the other end. "Mad? Oh, non! Non, of course not, Mathieu. He could never be angry with you." There was a low chuckle and Francis continued. "He's not upset with you in the least. He's…Well he's rather angry at himself."

"But why? Francis, I don't understand why? He just took off earlier and-"

"Mathieu, mon chér, relax. I will explain in the morning. Until then I want you to just relax. Do not worry. Je'taime, mon chér. Au revoir." There was a soft click signifying that Francis had hung up and Matthew was left with a very silent house. He sat up, placed the phone on the receiver, and then climbed off of the counter. He said nothing to the polar bear staring at him with imploring eyes, nor did he make any move to remove the small yellow bird as it settled into the blonde strands of hair atop his head.

He simply walked over to the pantry, grabbed two boxes of maple cookies, and made his way to the living room and flipped on the television.

Relaxing was easier said than done after Gilbert's display that morning. But the least Matthew could do was at least get comfortable while he worried about the man.

He flipped through the channels, eventually settling on reruns of "_The Nanny"_.

The woman's voice grated his ears and made him frown, but it helped him forget about some of his problems. He snuggled up to Kumajirou who had climbed up on the couch and handed the bear a maple cookie. Kumajirou muttered a light 'thank you' and scarfed it down in one bite. Matthew didn't bother scolding the bear for leaving crumbs all over the couch. He just settled into the warmth and concentrated on things like how in god's name was someone capable of having a voice that nasally and scratchy, and smiling at how awkward the fancy outfits from the 80's used to be.

-----

It was almost midnight when the doorbell to Francis' house went off. The loud chiming woke him up easily, but his house guest seemed to be knocked out cold. He slipped out of the covers of his bed and groggily made his way to the front door. When he opened the door, he was met with a rather disheveled looking Arthur.

The man's hair was sticking up in every which way, and his clothes looked as if he had slept in them several nights in a row. The bags under his eyes only seemed to complete the homeless look…

"…Angleterre…?"

"F-Francis…" Had Arthur been running…? Surely that was the only logical explanation for the slight hitch in the man's breath, but why—

"Francis, I've got a bit of a problem."

Francis frowned slightly, stepping out into the cold night air and closing the door behind him softly. "Start talking." He said, folding his arms across his chest and for once giving his full attention to the shorter man in front of him.

* * *

_**A/N:** Hahahaaaaa, I should have added more to this chapter...But my brain failed to supply me with what I should type._  
_Stupid pile of mush..._


	6. Breaking Bounderies

06

- BREAKING BOUNDERIES -

_"You have to realize that our little Mathieu is upset too. Do you honestly think he wants this?" Francis said as he looked over at the Prussian. The red eyed man was slumped over, his head resting on the counter._

_ "…no…"_

_ "Then why are you acting as if this only affects you?"_

_ "…"_

_ "Prusse…"_

_ "…I made a big mistake…didn't I Francis…?"_

_ A silence enveloped the two men. Francis leaned back in his barstool, rotating the glass of red wine between his thin fingers and watching the liquid glint in the dim bar light. Gilbert twisted his head, looking up at the Frenchmen with bleary eyes still bloodshot from the morning's events and the booze._

_ Francis sighed heavily, setting his glass down. "Yes. Yes you did." He said softly._

_ Gilbert cringed and quickly turned his face back, burying it into his folded arms._

_ "I had hoped that you would have been able to handle this little problem with a bit more maturity…But evidentially you aren't capable of such, not yet anyways." Francis shifted forward, propping his elbows up on the table and resting his chin in his hands. "What do you plan on doing when you go back home?"_

_ Gilbert stiffened._

_ "I'm not going to let you hide out at my house forever, Gilbert. I may be a friend, but being such I know what's good for you. Running away will only make the situation worse."_

_ "…I could always just—"_

_ "I'll make sure that nobody takes you in." Francis scowled slightly, picking up his glass and taking a small sip of wine. "You said so yourself that you remembered what I had said the other day. But you seem to have forgotten something after all."_

_ "Was ist das…?"_

_ "That ignoring petit Mathieu will only hurt him more." Again, Gilbert seemed to flinch. "And if you wish to rectify the situation, I suggest going home and apologizing." Gilbert sat up suddenly, wobbling unsteadily in his seat._

_ "Du kannst…You can't expect me to just_ go_ back there, Francis."_

_ "…Am I sensing cowardice from the great and awesome Prussia…?"_

_ Gilbert faltered suddenly, mouth falling open as the words quickly died on his lips. He sank back into a slumped position and let his head drop on the counter once again. "Even if I did go back and apologized…I don't know what I'd tell him…"_

_ "Mathieu is an understandable young man." Francis murmured. "Even if all you said was 'I'm sorry', he'd forgive you."_

_ "Canadian's tend to do that…" Gilbert mumbled, his voice slightly muffled by the voices of the bar around them._

_ "Prusse, you have to go back to him…"_

_ "…"_

_ "Why are you so nervous?"_

_ "I'm not—!"_

_ "But you are," Francis nudged Gilbert lightly on the shoulder. "Why are you so afraid of going back there…?"_

_ "…"_

_ "Prusse,"_

_ "…I…I hurt him…Francis…I…The look he had on his face when I pushed him away…" Gilbert seemed to curl into himself, burying his face in his hands. "And I just left him there…"_

_ "He cried, too."_

_ "What?!" Gilbert shot up in his seat, eyes wide._

_ "He was crying. I called him earlier to tell him you would be staying the night with me. I could hear it in his voice." Francis seemed to frown slightly as he stared at his drink. "I'm not sure how long he was crying…But he was highly upset." He paused. "And initially he thought you were angry at him."_

_ "But why would—"_

_ "I told him you weren't, Gilbert. Even I know it's near impossible for you to get angry at that boy." Francis brought his glass to his lips but halted the movement momentarily. He lowered the glass a few centimeters. "Now that I think about it…Why _did_ you just push him away like that…?"_

_ "Be-because…he…" Gilbert chewed on his cheek a few moments before turning his bloodshot gaze to the bar counter. "Because he's a kid, Francis. It's not normal…for a grown man to be with a kid…"_

_ "Says who?"_

_ "Says society, that's who!"_

_ "If I recall…a mere century or two ago, children were wed at the age of thirteen and had children by the time they were fifteen. Why should things be so different now?" Francis lowered his glass, folding his hands on the counter. Gilbert had fallen silent, biting on his lip and fidgeting uncomfortably. "I see nothing wrong with the relationship you two share."_

_ "But…The problem is that it's not normal _now_. It's fucking _illegal_!" Gilbert turned his gaze back to Francis. "People get thrown into jail and labeled a sex predator for being with kids. Hell, I once heard a story about a grandma who was arrested for having nude pictures of her _newborn_ grandchild!"_

_ "And what does this have to do with you and Mathieu?"_

_ "Everything! If I do _anything_ with Matthew and get caught, I could get thrown in jail!"_

_ "But I highly doubt that would happen…"_

_ "And why's that?"_

_ "Because you two hardly ever show your affection towards each other in public." Francis gave Gilbert a rather harsh stare. "You're too 'awesome' for love. Mathieu's too much of an introvert to even _think_ of kissing you in a public facility." Gilbert seemed to freeze up. "What Russia says means absolutely nothing, Gilbert. Matthew, despite his looks, is still a good two or three centuries old. Maybe even older than that, but that's how long he's been Kanada."_

_ "Fran—"_

_ "The fact still remains that he's much older than he looks. Give him a few years and he'll be looking a like normal again. I know you've never been one for patience, cher Prusse, but you have to get it through that thick skull of yours that until Angleterre finds a way to fix this problem, it's going to stay. You _will_ have to deal with Mathieu being a child." Francis' expression slowly shifted to that of annoyance. "I will not allow you to simply ignore him because the rules of society have changed. I won't allow you to push him away simply because you're too much of a coward to even chance giving him a light peck on the cheek."_

_ "Francis,"_

_ "I've known you to be an idiot, Prusse, but this simply is too much. You told me yourself that you were in love with cher Kanada. Why should you have to hide that affection because he's a child?"_

_ "It's _because_ he's a _child_ that I can't—"_

_ "Gilbert Weilschmidt, are you even _listening _to me!?" The glass in Francis' hands cracked. He hastily tore his gaze away from the Albino and snatched several napkins to soak up the steadily growing mess. A few seconds passed and eventually a bartender approached and offered to clean the mess. Francis murmured a light apology and then turned his rather icy blue eyes towards his old friend._

_ "You said so yourself that you made a big mistake." Gilbert flinched slightly, sinking back into his chair. "However much of an idiot you are, I have faith that you at least hold the common sense to figure out just what you have to do to fix this predicament. Right now, Mathieu is at home, alone, and upset. He has no idea why you ran out on him the way you did, and frankly, I can't quite understand it either." Gilbert leaned forward, resting his forehead on the counter. "If you truly love him, Prusse, then you'll go back home and apologize to him. If you truly love him, Prusse, it wouldn't matter what he looked like or how much society has changed these last few centuries." Francis crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat and turning his harsh gaze to the now clean counter. "If you truly loved him, Gilbert, you wouldn't be here right now."_

_ And then there was silence._

_ The idle chatter from the other people in the beer hall filled their ears. There was laughing, and murmuring, drinks clinking together and a television off in the background playing a football game of some sort._

_ "…You can be a real bastard, you know that…?"_

_ Francis smiled. "I only speak the truth, Prusse."_

_ Gilbert shifted, lifting his head slightly to peer up at the Frenchmen. "That…that last one's a lie…"_

_ "And how so…?"_

_ "…I love him a lot more than you think…"_

_ "And here I thought the word 'love' would never leave your lips. Perhaps everyone's assumption of you going soft really _is_ true…"_

_ "Shuddup you damn frog." Gilbert grumbled. He turned his gaze to the half empty stein glass in front of him. The amber liquid seemed to glow slightly in the dim lighting. "But personally, right now I'd rather just forget today even happened…"_

_ "Gilbert,"_

_ "And tomorrow I'll go and apologize. Just give me some time to mope, alright?"_

_ A rather pleasant smile spread across Francis' face. He turned his attention back to the counter as the bartender placed a new glass of red wine in front of him. "Have I made my point?" He asked rather quietly._

_ Gilbert shifted, sitting up a bit straighter ( although still slouched ) and grabbing the stein glass in front of him. "Crystal, Francis…"_

_ The Frenchmen took a drink, relaxing into his seat as he set the glass down. "Then I expect things to return to normal tomorrow…"_

_ "Mmm…" Gilbert took a rather generous swig of his beer, setting the glass down and licking his lips. "Francis…"_

_ "Yes, Gilbert?"_

_ Gilbert tightened his grip on the stein, keeping his hazed over red gaze on the glass._

_ "Thanks…"_

-----

Gilbert awoke that Saturday morning to a face full of pink, and a quiet stirring somewhere in the large house that he couldn't quite identify. His head throbbed and the light salmon colour burned his eyes. Stiffly, he rose, his back responding by shooting spirals of pain up his spine that only made his headache hurt worse and his eyes threaten to explode in their sockets. He couldn't quite place what was so off about the current room he was in. All he knew was that Matthew's couch had suddenly faded from the deep red it used to be, and the house no longer smelled of maple and cinnamon, but of a cologne of some sort and roses.

…Matthew didn't wear cologne…

Come to think of it, neither did he.

And he didn't remember having any roses in the house…

Bloodshot eyes widened slightly and Gilbert hastily looked around. He ignored the stiff pain in his neck, only dignifying it with a small grunt before he shot up off of the couch. He wobbled uneasily, slowly gaining his surroundings and assessing that he was _not_ at his home anymore.

He was at Francis' place…

…

Gilbert glanced down and relaxed when he found that he was still fully dressed.

There was a soft pitter patter across the floor and Gilbert looked up to see Francis entering the living room. The Frenchmen paused briefly before smiling ever so slightly.

"Good," He said. "You're awake."

Gilbert merely frowned. "Francis what—"

"We went out drinking last night. Rather…_you_ went out drinking. I was the one who brought you back here." Francis sighed heavily, taking a seat in one of the chairs positioned catty-cornered to the couch Gilbert had been sleeping on just moments before. "Tell me,Prusse, do you remember anything from yesterday…?"

Gilbert seemed to lose his balance as he fell back onto the couch. He exhaled sharply, tilting his head back and letting his eyes slip closed. "Unfortunately…" He mumbled. Perhaps he hadn't drunk enough?

"You do realize that Matthew is still at home…?"

"Mm-hmm…"

"…alone, Prusse…"

Gilbert said nothing; he merely cracked his eyes open a slit to stare at the ceiling that was much too high, and much too white for his eyes to handle.

"Alone and highly upset about what you did yesterday."

Gilbert let his eyes slip closed again, cringing when his head throbbed rather painfully. "I know…" He mumbled.

Francis leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his stubbled chin in his hands. "You need to talk to him, Gilbert…" He said softly. "That's the only way you can fix this mess."

Gilbert was silent for a while, shifting his gaze to the table resting a few feet away. "What time's it?" He asked.

Francis glanced at a clock resting above the fireplace and replied, "About nine thirty."

Gilbert cursed bitterly under his breath and dropped his head into his hands. He rubbed at his eyes and ran a pale hand through his hair before he finally heaved a groan and stood up. "What the hell do I sa—"

"Just tell him you're sorry, Gilbert. And mean it." Francis smiled softly, motioning his friend to the front door. "I'm sure it's something the 'awesome' you is capable of doing."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. He paused briefly before turning to leave, "Francis," He said sternly, giving the Frenchman a very serious but tired look. "If you say _anything_ about yesterday, I will hunt you down and eviscerate you."

Francis eyebrows shot up in mild amusement. "Such colourful language, Prusse." He said with a warm laugh. "Go on, mon Ami. You have a little lover waiting for you at home."

Gilbert grumbled under his breath, but made his way to the door none the less. Again, he paused before leaving, hand hovering over the elegant handle. "And Francis," He said. He didn't turn to look at the Frenchmen, keeping his ruby eyes on the door. "Thanks." He pulled the door open and stepped outside into the cold February morning air.

-----

Matthew was curled up on the couch, an empty box of maple cookies tossed to the ground and another half empty one lying by his feet. There was a partially eaten cookie held loosely in his tiny fingers and crumbs dotted the couch everywhere. The TV remained on, spewing out dry humour that had been used and reused over and over. It was nothing but background noise to the occupants in the room though. Kumajirou looked up from his place on the couch ( the pillow for the small child ) and tilted his head to the side. "Who are you?" The beast murmured, but the man standing before him didn't answer.

Gilbert merely sat down, crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knees as he watched the little child sleep. He remained quiet, ruby eyes half lidded and still just as exhausted as he had been the night before. If he had the option, he would have gone right upstairs and collapsed on the bed, but he had a feeling that it wasn't the smartest thing to do. Not when he had more pressing matters on his hands. Matthew was unaware of them, however, and remained sleeping, tiny chest rising and falling and lips twitching ever so slightly while he dreamt.

He must have sat there for almost thirty minutes before blue-violet eyes finally slipped open. Breathing stilled momentarily, and then came out in a quiet sigh past tiny lips. Gilbert swallowed thickly, waiting for the small child to jolt up and yell at him for being an idiot and acting immature and stupid and unawesome and how he—

"Gil…?"

The tiny voice snapped the German from his reverie and he looked up from the floor to the blue-violet gaze staring at him curiously.

"Hey…" was all he could get out before suddenly he felt the shame from the day before crashing down on him and he was at a loss for words. He let his jaw fall closed and his gaze be averted elsewhere.

Matthew sat up slowly, brushing off the cookie crumbs from his shirt until he deemed it clean enough and looked back at the Prussian. The silence that enveloped them was quite awkward and uncomfortable, but the occupants in the room seemed fine with that. Matthew shifted forward slightly until he was on the floor. "A-are you ok…?" He asked slowly.

Gilbert glanced up at the child, letting out air he hadn't realized he had been holding in. He gave a short nod, murmuring a quiet, "Better than yesterday," Before falling silent again. Gilbert idly began to chew on the inside of his cheek.

"Listen I—"

"Gil, I wanted to—"

They both fell silent, letting out nervous laughs before Gilbert spoke again. "I…uhm…m'Sorry…About yesterday…" He looked down at the ground again.

Matthew decided that a sullen Gilbert was not one that he liked. He shifted forward, hesitantly reaching forward before he pushed Gilbert's messy bangs out of his face and lightly brushed it against his pale cheek. "I know." He said softly, a small smile playing at his lips. "I know you didn't mean it." He let his hand drop down to his lap, biting his lip lightly.

Gilbert seemed to relax considerably at Matthew's words. He heaved a sigh, letting his head drop down into his hands. "Ich bin ein idiot." He murmured. "Ein groß idiot."

Matthew laughed lightly, bringing his hands back up to Gilbert's hair, lightly running his fingers through the silver strands. "Yes, yes you are." He said. Gilbert lifted his head to look at the child, about to protest, but he fell silent. Matthew was smiling, he wasn't angry.

"Thanks for the comfort." Gilbert grumbled weakly, letting his head drop back into his hands. The chuckle that escaped his lips betrayed any signs of irritation or solemnity, however, and he suddenly found himself smiling along with Matthew. "Wir sind idioten…" He lifted his head once more, leaning back against the coffee table and staring at the ceiling. "God, I can't believe this…"

Matthew shifted forward again, giving Gilbert a cautious glance before he climbed into the Albino's lap. Gilbert made no move to run away as he had the day before; he merely wrapped his arms around the lithe boy and rested his cheek against his head. "Apology accepted." Matthew murmured softly, snuggling into the warm chest. Gilbert smiled, feeling the tense and awkward air finally giving way to something else.

Kumajirou decided that the fluffy scene unfolding before his beady black eyes was just a little too much, so he climbed off the couch and hobbled off up the stairs. Matthew and Gilbert watched with mild amusement before Matthew shifted in his Gilbert chair to sit face to face with the Albino.

"Are you ever going to tell me about what happened yesterday?" He asked.

Gilbert sighed heavily. "It's uh…" He paused. "It's not exactly—"

"Gil, I want to know." Matthew fiddled with the strings on Gilbert's sweater-jacket. "Please…?"

Gilbert was silent.

"Gil, you hardly ever get upset…And you've been acting weird all week."

Gilbert laughed dryly. "I wonder why, Mattie. Have you looked in the mirror recently?" He received a light punch to the chest. "Alright, alright!" He rubbed the spot as if it had hurt, and Matthew smiled smugly as if he believed him. "You really want to know?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't, Gil." Matthew watched as the smile on Gilbert's lips slowly faded and was replaced by a light frown. "C'mon, Gil. Please? I'm worried about you…"

"You're always worried about me, Matt."

"Because you tend to do a lot of stupid things."

"Hey!"

"Well it's true! But you're never depressed!"

Gilbert opened his mouth to protest, but closed it just as fast. Matthew kept his blue-violet gaze on him, still messing with the strings on Gilbert's jacket and waiting for a response. "All…All you need to know is that Russia said some things and I was being an idiot and let it get to me."

"What did he say?"

"…"

"Gil,"

"…He said…some things about…us…"

"Us?"

"About how you're a kid now…And how I'm not…"

Matthew's hands stilled with the strings and he shifted slightly. The room fell silent, the television the only noise droning on in the background. "He said that…?" He murmured softly. Gilbert gave him a stiff nod. "And what about your nightmare…?"

Gilbert visibly cringed and sank back slightly. "Ask…Ask Francis about that one. I'm not repeating it." Ruby eyes were averted to the ground, away from Matthew once more. The little Canadian sighed.

"But you're feeling better…aren't you…?" He asked quietly.

"Like I said earlier…Better than yesterday."

"So…" Matthew started delicately, staring uncertainly at the man at first. He let his hands rest on the Prussian's chest as he continued. "Can I…uhm…Can I kiss you without you running away now?" His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke, and his cheeks flushed such a deep red that Gilbert silently wondered if Antonio's tomatoes could be any redder. He didn't miss the slight unease in the child's voice, or the way he would shift uncomfortably.

Gilbert was still for a few moments, mulling the question over in his head. Matthew took the silence as a 'no' however, and his face fell slightly, eyes already beginning to tear up.

It was then that Gilbert decided a sad Matthew was not one that he liked, so he gently lifted a hand to cup the small face and tilt it up. Without saying a word, he angled his head and brought it down, gently connecting their lips together. Matthew barely had a chance to utter out a small sound of surprise before he found himself wrapped up in a warm embrace and gripping at silver strands of hair.

The mess of maple cookies and crumbs and the television blaring in the background were quickly forgotten. The events from the past few days swept under the table and suddenly, Gilbert didn't very much care whether Matthew was a child or not. He didn't mind that the hands that used to be calloused from hockey and cutting lumber were now smaller and smoother against his skin. He didn't mind that Matthew's head barely reached his chest or that he had to bend over to reach eyelevel with the blonde. Just as long as he knew it was Matthew in his arms, he would be fine with that.

And as Matthew parted his lips, pressing himself closer to the white haired man, he decided that being little was something he could probably get used to. Just as long as Gilbert was there, and he didn't run away. As long as he knew that Gilbert could love him no matter what he looked like or how little he was.

It wasn't so bad, they decided, as long as they could stay together and be happy.

-----

The mess of maple cookies had been cleaned up. Dishes and drinks that were left out from the hockey game two days ago finally put away or thrown out. The living room was tidied up, blankets folded and pillows fluffed and smoothed and resting on maroon cushions. The Williams-Weilschmidt household was calm for the first time in what felt like forever. Kumajirou continued snoozing on his usual perch on the end of the couch, Gilbird buried into the white fur atop his head. Other than the sounds of the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway, chiming softly to let the occupants know it was four o'clock, the house was completely silent.

That was, until the front door suddenly burst open and a rather frazzled looking Englishmen made his way to the livingroom.

"Matthew! Where are you I need to—What on earth are you doing sleeping at four in the afternoon?!"

"I'd much appreciate it if you wouldn't yell…" Gilbert growled from his place on the couch. He was lying down with Matthew curled up to his side. The little child was sound asleep, face buried into the prussian's chest.

Arthur frowned slightly, folding his arms across his chest. "That doesn't explain much, Gilbert."

Gilbert stared up at the Brit with bleary eyes. "Had a long day yesterday…What the hell do you want, caterpillars?"

Arthur continued to scowl, but complied. "Kraut," He looked at Gilbert rather harshly, giving the still sleeping Matthew a curious glance. "We need to talk."

-----

"…Matthew has to stay a kid…" Gilbert said flatly.

Arthur nodded stiffly, fisting his hands above his knees as he stared at anything other than the red eyed man seated across from him. "I've searched through every book I have." He said. "But I can't find a reversal spell or anything. I don't even know how it happened, to be honest." He chanced a glance at Gilbert's impassive face and Matthew's still sleeping one. "The spell I was _trying_ to use wasn't meant to turn anyone into a child."

They were speaking in hushed tones, Gilbert letting Matthew continue to rest in his lap, and Arthur seated in a chair positioned catty-cornered to the couch.

"What was it supposed to do, then?" Gilbert asked.

Arthur leaned over, burying his face in his hands. "It doesn't really matter. All you need to know is that Alfred was being a gitface like he usually does and I got sick of it. I figured a little spell wouldn't hurt anybody but…"

Gilbert shifted forward. "But…?"

Arthur frowned. "I…I may or may not have been smashed off my feet at the time…" He lifted his head, staring at the glass coffee table in front of him. "So I don't entirely know what I did. But I've searched through everything. You should stop by my house sometime. It looks like world war three came through with a good fifty billion battalions." He shifted again, letting his hands fall to his lap as he leaned back against the chair. "I truly am sorry about this." He murmured.

Gilbert rubbed at the side of his chin, frowning ever so slightly as he stared at the rather distraught looking Englishmen. "I…" He started, but he suddenly fell quiet. Arthur lifted his head to look at him. "I…don't think it'll be much of a problem…" Gilbert finally said.

Arthur's mouth seemed to unhinge and fall to the floor.

"…It…won't…?" Arthur stammered. Gilbert nodded slowly.

"I…uh…I talked to Francis…"

"Oh bloody hell…"

"Don't give me that 'bloody hell' shit, Arthur." Gilbert snapped. "He actually gives reasonable advice every once in a while, y'know."

Arthur fell silent, glancing towards the ground briefly before he leaned back in the chair. "So…you're not angry…?"

"Hell yes, I'm angry." Gilbert hissed. Arthur flinched. "I'm fucking _pissed_."

"…I noticed…"

"But I can't exactly do anything to change the situation now, can I?" Gilbert shifted slightly, pulling a blanket off of the back of the couch and pulling it around Matthew. Arthur dimly thought how much of a paternal action it was, but quickly shook it from his head.

Gilbert.

A father.

…

Eugh…

"Wait, what?" Arthur looked up from the rather cozy looking Canadian to Gilbert.

"I said I can't do anything to change the situation…right?"

"…r-right…"

"So I'll just have to suck it up and deal with it."

"…yes…"

"Not a problem."

"…Are you on something…?"

"I took some advil this morning…" Gilbert frowned slightly. "Why?"

Arthur spluttered slightly. "B-because you're actually being _reasonable_ for once." He shook his head. "Did someone finally beat you into submission or something? I thought you'd be ready to jump down my throat or, or…Well I don't know, I just figured you'd go on a rampage!"

Gilbert merely shrugged. "Why would I do that when I know you'll find a counter spell eventually?"

Arthur fell silent.

"You haven't even been searching a whole week." Gilbert pointed out as he leaned back into the couch cushions. Matthew remained snoozing, shifting only slightly to bury himself further beneath the blanket Gilbert had pulled over him. "You're gonna keep looking."

"Wha—"

"And you _will_ find that spell."

"But how can I—"

Gilbert narrowed his eyes. "Arthur," His voice was suddenly icy and low. Arthur involuntarily shuddered.

"R-right then. Keep looking. Find the spell. I-I can do that…"

Gilbert smiled. "That's a good little caterpillars. Now get out of my house so I can sleep."

Arthur was gone in less than three seconds.

* * *

_**A/N:** So I'm not entirely happy with the end of this chapter... :/ But that's just me. _  
_I was planning on having this done on Monday, but some things got in the way so it got delayed. TAT_  
_But it'll definitely be done some time this week! I PROMISE!!!_

_Also, there's like...four bonus stories and an OMAKE+storyline to go with it. |D_


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